


A Life Worth Falling For

by consulting_superwholockian



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm Not Good At Tags., M/M, Maybe Eventual Smut..., Spoliers For All Seasons Of All Shows, There's Probably More Characters... Oh Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_superwholockian/pseuds/consulting_superwholockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In one moment, I, Hamaliel, was safe in Heaven where I lie an Angel gazing at a city below. It was a beautiful, moonlit night on Earth as I pondered how such tiny, powerless people could do such extraordinary things. In another moment, in a single blink of an eye, I was falling."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is my first published work on Archive of Our Own. Enjoy! <3

Prologue

In one moment, I, Hamaliel, was safe in Heaven where I lie an Angel gazing at a city below. It was a beautiful, moonlit night on Earth as I pondered how such tiny, powerless people could do such extraordinary things. In another moment, in a single blink of an eye, I was falling. 

Plummeting, you could say. 

Hurtling towards the same planet Earth, I had been observing at an impossible speed. At the time, I didn't know how to react, whether it be screaming, trying to stop myself, or... or anything. I just let myself fall. Hell, I didn't have an idea what was going on; I didn't know what to do. My face was burning, and my hair was singing. I could feel my wings breaking; I could feel them smoldering away, each feather torturously ripped from their rightful place. 

So this... this was pain. 

During this time was I positive that this was most certainly a bad event taking place, and I felt emotions I had never felt before: panic, helplessness, confusion were just a few. In the short time that I had, I hastily tried looking around to see what was going on. In the short glance that I had caught before my head was forced down, I saw millions of my fellow brother and sisters falling. 

The Angels were falling. We didn't know why, we didn't know where we would end up, and we especially had no idea what was coming for us. 

Bracing myself (seeing as I couldn't do anything else), I crashed headfirst into a forest nearby the city I had been watching and skidded across the grass, sending trees that had previously been in my path flying. I gasped, the pain unbearable. I came to an abrupt stop on my stomach and face, buried at least a foot into the ground. Slowly I lifted myself to my knees, checking myself for injuries. Up and down my arms and legs ran long, painfully deep cuts, one so deep you could nearly see the bone of my kneecap. I tried lifting myself to my feet, but failed miserably. One of my ankles collapsed, sending me falling backwards. As soon as I hit the ground, my eyes blurred towards the edges, and a cut on my cheek reopened. Before I knew what was I was doing, I felt my face become wet. I quickly wiped my cheeks off, then looked at the palms of my hand. Ignoring the bloody gashes on my hands, I noticed water shining in the moonlight on my palms. 

I was crying. 

This was new. 

Not allowing myself to cry any further, I tried standing up again, this time succeeding on doing so. Before I could fall, I clutched onto a nearby tree. Hissing in pain, I pushed myself off the trunk and steadied myself before walking, seeing as I could not teleport- I was too damaged to do so. 

Figuring that something like this was most likely a permanent change, I willed myself not to panic, and do what a helpless (human) being would do in this situation: survive. Find shelter and survive. I was worried, yes, but I willed myself not to show it.

Before I could walk a foot, familiar ringing began in my head. I closed my eyes immediately, trying to listen into what could only be fellow Angels talking amongst themselves.

Sam and Dean Winchester have attempted to close the Gates of Hell!

No one is in heaven! 

What has happened?

Castiel is the foundation for our fall!

Why have we all fallen?

I had recognized all of the names mentioned: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, and my brother, Castiel. Throughout the past years, the Winchester brothers- Dean being the eldest, Sam the younger- had been mentioned several times. Not only had they been mentioned... I have seen them. Well, in visions. 

Tiny blurs of color that formed beneath my eyelids would paint scenes regarding the Winchesters ever since Sam Winchester had joined his brother Dean hunting ten years ago. They became more frequent when Castiel saved Dean from perdition. However, these "visions" were never set in the future but rather set in present time. 

It was an odd skill, one might say. 

As for Castiel, I had the pleasure of being well acquainted with him until he left for Dean's sake. My brother would frequently be in Heaven, but that was during the war (that was still raging on), when everyone was flying about. This epidemic wasn't likely his fault- it wasn't of his nature. 

I opened my eyes. I didn't have time to listen, no matter how important the information might be. I needed to find shelter and take care of myself. I debated either going to the city or deeper into the woods, eventually deciding to walk further into the forest. In the city would inevitably be noticed by curious, worrying people asking questions about my current state. It would be wiser to clean up and heal before time to avoid suspicion and questioning. After checking my inventory to make sure I had everything I needed (such as my Angel blade, a small vile, and scratch parchment which always came in handy), I set off on what would hopefully be a brief journey. 

For what felt like hours, I trekked (or rather limped) through timberland, searching for a cave, a shaded ravine, anything when I finally came across a swallow river. Without previous knowledge, I walked into the stream with my clothes on. I watched intently as blood flowed from my cuts and into the water, befuddled. This was all so different- I had been thrust into a new world, one that I had gazed but never lived upon. Even though I was alone, I would not let myself be shocked- Angels such as myself were warriors of God, and if this were meant to happen, then so it be.

Looking past the trees as I rinsed myself off, I noticed an abandoned house not too far off. 

Perfect. 

Without hesitation, I did my best to walk across the river, trying my hardest not to slip or hurt myself even more. As soon as I had reached the opposite edge where the water met ground, I carefully hoisted myself up. The house was only a few yards away now, but I was freezing and hurting everywhere. Falling to my knees, I began to crawl towards the establishment. As soon as I passes the door, I flopped onto my back. Of course, the first thing that hit the floorboards were my shoulder blades where underneath my sensitive wings lied. I screamed in pain, then unintentionally unfolded them. Each wing's tip painfully brushed against the adjacent walls, much more tender than usual, thanks to my fall. My wings were shredded: the majority of my feathers were lost in the fire caused by the friction of falling. My whole body ached, especially my head. 

I, Hamaliel, Angel of Logic, could not handle this much knowledge in this tortured form. 

I knew that I had access to vital, important knowledge, but I needed to take this risk, or I wouldn't survive long enough to ever speak it. 

Getting up to my feet once again, I searched for a pen which, surprisingly, did not take long at all, took out my parchment, and wrote down any important information or sketches that I might forget in the process. 

In the process of becoming human. 

It must have been hours later when I had finally finished my sketches and wrote down anything I needed to remember. I knew there was the possibility of me regretting this decision and that if I ever decided to give myself my grace back, it would be painful.

Nevertheless, I would die if I didn't. Any Angel in this vulnerable state would. 

Using the last of my abilities to heal any serious injuries, I leant against the wall, took out my angel blade, and quickly dragged it across my neck. Taking out the small vile, I held it up to the swallow gash. It was funny- it was as if my subconscious knew I would need all of these items for my inventory. Within seconds, out poured my grace. It was beautiful, like glowing purple water; the only word to completely describe it was pure. 

Well, pure but painful. 

With every drop of grace I felt as if a piece of my soul was being ripped away. As if I were dying a terrible death, then brought back to life, only to relive it again. 

As soon as my system had been clear of all things graceful, I hit my head against the wall, feeling extremely weak. With my last bit of strength, I put the cork back on to the bottle and looked around for a drawer which did not take too long. Inside lie a journal and a spot just big enough towards the back for the vile. Quickly stuffing it in and slamming the drawer shut, I slumped to my knees as everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter One: Genesis

Date: May 17, 2014  
Entry: 289

Before I begin, I apologize for not writing in so long; the days have been busy. Even in an isolated area such as where I'm situated, there are still many things to do in order to survive. However, I decided to put these tasks aside for the day, considering I promised myself I would keep a very detailed journal for reference. Earlier this morning, I risked going out in public and into the city to ask someone what the date was to which the stranger replied with, "May 17, 2014, ma'am."

What a coincidence.

It has been exactly a year since I have taken the fall; since all of the Angels fell from Heaven. Therefore, seeing as I currently have nothing better to do (unless you count further improving the formerly abandoned house where I now resided in, which could wait), I have decided to summarize all that has and is currently happening for anniversary's sake. 

First and foremost, I've fallen, as previously mentioned numerous times before. 

Next, I have thrived in this formerly abandoned home which, for the most part, has been repaired. According to this journal and what memory I have left, I have found this journal, extra parchment, and a bit of old, but usable ink. With just a few left, I've managed to make a quill out of one of my former wing's feathers. Using these items and interior walls to the most of my abilities, nearly the entire living quarters (or what possibly was once living quarters) is decorated with hundreds upon hundreds of sketches and notes, which all relate back to the Winchesters and their new friends. This brings me to my third point. 

Aside from the brothers and Castiel there are, or rather have been three others for roughly half a year, possibly longer. These three people include Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and a mysterious man who calls himself the Doctor. To explain this briefly, Mr. Holmes is a sociopath, and works as what he calls a "consulting detective". Both his flatmate and "his blogger", Mr. Watson, is an ex-army doctor. After two years apart (Sherlock had faked his death- refer to notes), they continue to solve crimes together. The Doctor is inhuman, but certainly resembles one. He calls himself "a Time Lord", and travels around in his time machine called the TARDIS, which is an acronym for 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space'. On the exterior, it looks like a London 1960's Police Box. However, it's bigger on the inside- infinitely bigger, to be exact. When possible, he is usually accompanied by a friend, or "companion", the current companions being Sherlock, John, Sam, Dean, and Castiel. To the extent of my knowledge, the Doctor was the one who told John that Sherlock was still alive. The three men later met Sam, Dean, and Castiel on a trip to America. The six made a fine group, and decided to stick together in the TARDIS (on the condition that they visit 221B where Holmes and Watson live, Galilfrey, the Doctor's home planet, and the Men of Letters bunker where the two hunters and other fallen Angel live. 

Furthermore, even without my grace, I still have visions or whatever you would call them, considering they take place during present time. It is as if there is an old part of me that does not want to let go. Again, I still have yet to figure out why but for now, the only thing to do is accept and write about it when the time comes. 

Lastly (and most importantly), I'm losing my memory, which is why I keep this journal. I still have yet to understand why. I hardly remember heaven, or my earlier times as an Angel. Not only am I losing my memory, but... I think I may be going slightly mad. The worst days spent here start with the sound of drums, a rhythm of four beats, and my eyes involuntarily shutting. Then comes pain, a feeling Ive forcefully had to accept. It starts in my head, then moves its way to the bottom of my feet. Just when I think its over, then comes the sort-of premonitions. The ferocity of the agony these events come with grow worse and worse with each spontaneous time it happens. 

I don't know why, and not knowing scares me. 

Leaving the journal pages to dry, I set down my makeshift quill and slumped back into the old, wooden desk chair. For one year, I have survived as a human. I have made it this far. Smiling to myself, I glanced at the sketch-filled wall and made way for the back porch, being sure to avoid any loose floorboards. 

I leaned against the railing, pondering on the year's events. Sure, humanity had it's disadvantages, but it was a much simpler life. It hadn't taken me long to adjust, after all I did spend many of my days as Angel observing and writing down what I found interesting about humans. It's no wonder why journalism comes so easily to me. 

I looked out ahead at the scenery. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun reflecting off the clear river. Surrounding my place of rest is a forest, whose leaves swayed in the light breeze. Inhaling the strong scent of fresh air and clean water, I listened to the ambience around me. 

That is, was listening to the ambience until a sudden ringing sound replaced the calm noises around me. 

Not again, not now.

I shifted my weight against the railing, surprised it could actually hold me. It was old, after all. My eyes squeezed shut as the sound of drums came rolling in. Pain shot through my body, hitting every single nerve. I collapsed onto the ground as colors began to form underneath my eyelids. 

The TARDIS landed in a clearing inside a... or rather the forest Hamaliel was situated in, just as planned. It seems that you could never be too cautious when came to parking near a potentially dangerous destination. Before they had been grounded for a single minute, the team consisting of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and the Doctor came rushing out. To any outsider it would look peculiar, seeing six people emerge from a 1960's London Police box; however, Hamaliel was no outsider. 

Dean Winchester, a strong, well built man, cocked his shotgun. When given odd looks and a brief scolding from the Doctor, he replied with, "You can never be too careful, especially in this line of work", and tossed it to his brother, Sam, who was younger than Dean by four years. Quickly, he grabbed a new pistol from the adjacent pocket, only to repeat the same process. 

"You sure we're in the right place, Doc?" the elder Winchester asked. 

"Yes, yes, positive... however, I do think we should be a tad more... peaceful, going about this. I mean, you do want to try... what's her name?" the Doctor said distractedly, fumbling with his sonic screwdriver. 

"Hamaliel, Angel of Logic," Sam replied. 

"Hamaliel. You do want to try Hamaliel for information, right? I doubt her, or anyone for that matter would cooperate well with a gun held to their face."

Dean laughed, slapping a hand on the Time Lord's shoulder. "That's funny, because last time Sammy and I checked, that same tactic got us places."

John cleared his throat "I understand what you are saying, Dean, but I have to go with the Doctor on this one."

"Agreed," began Castiel. "after all, Hamaliel is my sister. She was never troublesome in Heaven. In fact, she-"

"Oh, for God's sake everyone, shut up. Shut up!" Sherlock yelled. "Lets get on with this tedious task. I have better things I could be doing." Without warning, he took the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, fiddled with the buttons, then scanned the clearing around them. "The energy exhibited by her grace is coming from there, over by the river," the detective finished, then grabbed John's hand, pulling the man with him into the forest. Before anyone could object, the rest of them followed closely behind, hoping to catch this angel in hopes of getting information out of her. 

My eyes shot open. Before anything I sat up, gasped for air, and attempted to control my breathing. I am not only... wanted by the Winchesters, but their friends for information? What do they even mean, information? I stumbled to my feet, holding my throbbing head. Once I had an unlimited amount of knowledge (and that's not big-headedness, it was true!), but that was during my time as an Angel; however, I suppose they didn't know I was no longer an Angel. On a related note, how come I hadn't seen any events prior relating to this... hunt for me? How do they know where I live? So many questions, but not enough time; judging by the weapons they carry, it seems that their company will not be pleasant. I couldn't run; I would inevitably be caught. I needed to hide, and hide quickly. The travel from that clearing to this house shouldn't take long at all, especially with the sonic screwdriver at their disposal. 

I whipped my head up, scouting out a quick, yet convenient hiding spot. I couldn't hide inside, considering they would certainly scour every square inch for me if they are as serious as they seem to be. Not in the river; that would be too dangerous with all the rushing water and falling stones. Its too late to hide in the forest; all of the thicker trees are found deeper within. My fear continued to build and build until I ultimately decided on laying underneath the porch. At this point I had already wasted enough time, and this appeared to be my best option.

As quietly as possible, I made my way from the top of the porch to directly underneath it. It was a shallow fit, but it would suffice. Trying to camouflage, I used dirt to cover me as much as possible. It wasn't long until I heard footsteps and muffled voices. 

"Open up!" I heard the man himself, Dean Winchester, call while his fists pounded on the door. Despite his demand, I stayed put. "Sherlock," he continued. "hand me the sonic, will yah?"

"It doesn't do wood," the Doctor replied. From where I laid, you could hear the faintest of sighs, more talking, and-

CRASH!

There goes my door. 

"Dean, was that necessary?" Sam asked, speaking both of our minds. 

"I just wanna get this over with, alright Sammy?" his brother retorted.

"It goes without saying that this task will not go as hastily as you think it will, Dean," Sherlock stated. 

"Sherlock is right-" 

"Of course I am, John."

"...Anyways," John began again. "Have you seen these drawings, guys? They are fantastic... not to mention, portraits of us!"

"I was always interested in Hamaliel's drawings when I crossed paths with her. She usually wrote instead of sketching, however," said Castiel, the sound of rustling paper following him. 

"There is writing underneath the pictures. The English is a bit broken, however. Must be the TARDIS translating... Enochian, is it?" The Doctor asked. 

"That is the language of Heaven, yes," Castiel replied. 

"Guys, take look at this," Sam said. "I found this journal open and on the desk back there. The ink is still wet. Don't touch it Dean, you're going to ruin the entry!"

"Sorry, sorry! Anything else on that desk?" the elder brother asked, then walked off, judging by the sound of his heavy footsteps moving towards the direction of my desk. 

"Guess you can go and figure out for yourself. Anyways, Hamaliel must be nearby-"

"Obviously," Sherlock interrupted. 

"I'm going to take a look outside. You guys have look around, alright?" Sam finished. 

"Will do," John and Cas agreed.

"It's not like there is anything better to do," Sherlock mumbled. 

"No problem-o!" said the Doctor. 

As the talking died down, it became easier and easier to hear Sam's footsteps nearing the back porch. I was silently panicking, then realized I was holding my breath. I prayed to my father that I wouldn't be caught. It was only seconds later that the youngest Winchester was on the threshold between the indoors and outdoors. 

"Alright," he breathed. "Couldn't have gone into the river, not the-" As soon as he took a step forwards, Sam walked upon a loose floorboard; a loose floorboard that happened to be directly above me. With a shout, the floor gave in beneath him. Down he fell, then landed directly onto my sensitive shoulders blades where my wings were once one with my vessel. 

"A-AH!-" I let out a strangled scream. Each nerve stung with agonizing pain, starting from my upper back to the tips of my toes. Before I could even consider the idea of either fleeing or fighting, everything faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Bear with me- it won't always end in a black out :p.


	3. Chapter 2: Point(s) of Inquiry

"Is she going to be alright?"  
Sam. 

"Her heart rate is steady. Nothing is broken; however, we should still check where you fell onto her shoulder blades."  
John. 

"According to the sonic, she should be up any minute now."  
Doctor. 

I'm alive. 

Without a second thought, I immediately opened my eyes and sat up, gasping for air. Ignoring Sam, John, and the Doctor at my side and the shocked expressions on everyone's faces, I frantically stood up, spun in my place, and checked my surroundings until I realized I was back underneath the roof of my house. Still in aftershock, I reached for my angel blade in my back pocket, only to find that it wasn't there. "Get back, now!" Dean yelled. Before I could move an inch, the younger Winchester, the blogger, and the "madman with a box" jumped up and stumbled back towards Castiel, Dean, and Sherlock. As soon as everyone in the room was at least a yard away from me, the elder Winchester lit a match and threw it down. The tiny flame ignited and formed a circle around me. At that time, I wasn't confused but rather relieved that holy fire didn't burn wood, seeing as my entire house was made from wooden planks. I was seemingly "trapped" in the ring of this fire, which is specifically known by hunters as an Angel trap. It was right to assume that they hadn't received any news about my current state. 

"Hamaliel, right?" Dean began, smirking. "Looking for this?" He held out my angel blade, swinging it tauntingly like how a child might wave candy in front of a friend's face.

"It's no longer of importance. I thought I was under attack," I breathed.

John spoke up, "We're here to-"

I knew where this was headed. "-to interrogate me. To 'get information out of me'," I sighed. As calm as I seemed, I was still shocked and had many questions of my own. "I do not mind answering any questions I still have privilege of knowing the answers to, but if you don't mind, I would prefer if I put out this holy fire first. In other words, give me a moment, please." Careful not to burn myself, I stepped over the ring of holy fire and made my way to a nearby cupboard to grab a pail. Before I could even reach up and touch the rusty handle, a gun went off, and a bullet flew right past my face. The whole cabinet shook, then broke off the wall and fell to my feet. I whipped around to face Dean holding a gun. 

"Was that necessary, Dean?" Sam asked. "It's not like we're here to kill her."

"I don't trust these two-faced dicks, with Cas as the only exception; you know that, Sammy. Not after Gadreel," Dean said, not lowering his gun nor losing eye contact with me. 

As one might say, if looks could kill, the older Winchester would be dead judging by his younger brother's 'bitchface', as they both called it. "And who's fault was that, Dean? You should've just let Death-"

During this time, I had quietly grabbed my pail and made my way to the river. The sound of rushing water had grown loud, and I could no longer hear the argument taking place. Lazily, I filled the bucket and turned to head back to house, only to find myself face to face with everyone I thought I had left inside, including Dean's gun aimed at my chest. Pail in one hand, I pushed the barrel of the gun to the side. "If you wanted me dead you would've shot me already, Dean Winchester," I deadpanned, then pushed past the group.

After the fire was put out and the floor was soaked, I sat in my desk chair, and placed my hands in my lap. I awaited questioning as they talked as a group, with the exception of Sam who began walking towards me. "I would introduce myself, but it seems you already know us," he started, gesturing to the rest of the men, then to the various papers scattered across the walls. "I mean sure, we're the Winchesters, plus your infamous brother Castiel and then some, but you... you're on top of it," he finished, then laughed. 

I looked down at my hands, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I apologize. My intentions weren't to appear to you as a sort of... stalker."

"No, no, don't worry; Cas already explained that you have these premonitions about Dean and I, right? I know the feeling," he smiled. 

I nodded. "Thirty-two years ago is when it started; when you were born, and then your brother. Now, all six of you, Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and the Doctor are all," I tapped my head. "...here, it seems." I paused, feeling out of place. I was so used to living alone and not interacting, that this... it was new to me. Twiddling my thumbs I continued, wanting to end the uncomfortable silence. "I was the one who told Castiel that Dean was stuck in perdition."

Sam immediately began talking again, his eyes wide. "Wait, you helped Cas save Dean?"

"I... I would like to think so. He was always interested when I wrote about you two, which was for reference- nothing else. I would usually write about humanity, unless something important with you Winchesters arose. I sincerely apologize about the hardships and troubles you've endured and that I could not help, but you do lead such interesting lives," I breathed, realizing I was rambling. "Im getting off topic, apologies."

"No need to apologize," he said, a hint of eagerness in his voice. 

"Oh, alright. Anyhow, as much as an honor it would have been to save your brother and you, I unfortunately wasn't in the right position to do so, and Castiel was gone as soon as I told him the news. Nowadays, with their current status, I'm happy for them." As I finish, I look up directly into Sam's susceptible eyes. 

"Thank y-" 

"Alright, let's get this movin'," Dean interrupted Sam. "Doc, you already got the results back on whether or not Hamaliel is her, right?"

The Doctor flipped out his sonic screwdriver and examined it. "Yes, she's Hamaliel alright."

"Good, don't want a repeat of last time," Dean paused when Sam shot him a furious glare, then continued. "Anyways, Hamaliel, would you like to start off by telling us why you were hiding from us?"

"Sam has told me Castiel has explained to all of you about my... ability, correct?" Dean nodded stiffly as I continued talking. "Well, my first instinct when I see you in the clearing of the forest coming out of the TARDIS with a gun, saying using it to threaten others is a tactic that gets you places, is, of course, to hide."

"How very often do you get these premonitions? Are they random? Do they happen at a certain time?" Sam asked. 

My face softened as I turned from an annoyed Dean to a genuinely curious Sam. "Random. They seem to occur during important points in your life, for reasons I don't have the answer to." 

"Oh yeah? Reasons you don't have the answ-" Dean started, then was interrupted by Sherlock. 

"It's obvious she isn't lying, judging by the pupils of her eyes which are not dilated, breathing is regula-"

"Thanks for the input. Now," Dean began to pick up from where he left off as I realized that the amount of times one person has been interrupted by another is innumerable. "how the hell did you pass out just because Sammy here fell a couple feet onto your back? Does he need to go back on his diet? You're a freakin' angel," he smirked, then nudged the younger Winchester, who scowled. Turning in my chair, I opened the drawer in my desk and grabbed my vile of grace. It had been such a long time since I last looked at it, but it glowed just as brightly as it did a year ago. Figuring this may not be enough evidence, I turned around, faced the wall and began unbuttoning my shirt. 

"This just keeps getting better and better," Dean said, rubbing his hands together. 

"Dean," Sam said warningly. The elder Winchester groaned, then stopped short as I revealed my bare shoulder blades. I remember a couple months back staring at my back in the reflection of the river, surprised to see two large, dark purple bruises covering most of my back. I could only imagine what they looked like now; I heard someone audibly gasp from behind me. I heard a buzzing come from what could only be the sonic behind me, then buttoned up my shirt. 

"Yes," the Doctor said quietly. "that is her grace. She's definitely human. However, my question is... why?"

"How are you not dead, Hamaliel?" Castiel asked. 

Taking a breath, I turned around to dumbstruck faces. "I remember pain. A lot of pain in my head, and... I don't know. I remember there were things that were important, information only I had access to, along with unlimited knowledge of the human race. Some instinct inside me... I just... knew I was going to die if I didn't do what I had to do. So, with the last bit of energy that I had, I healed the more permanent injuries on my vessel, and woke up the next morning, barely alive."

It was completely quiet until Sam spoke up. "I read the entry that your journal was open to. It said you were forgetting; what do you mean, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It isn't like... what's it called... oh! Alzheimer's. It's more like... a wall, blocking memories of heaven and my previous knowledge of humanity. I hardly remember home upstairs, apart from bits and pieces, which I write about. As for Earth and it's inhabitants, I wont one day just... forget everything. There are just things I don't remember learning about, like what they- or we, might do in our spare time, though Im almost positive I quote it down in my records, which unfortunately I do not have access to. They're all up in heaven."

"Sounds like Death's deal I made for Sam while he was soulless," Dean mumbled, looking at his shoes.

"I recall that. It could possibly be related, and if so, it's for a good reason," I replied.

"Do you still remember the Training?" Castiel asked out of the blue.

I felt myself physically shudder. "Yes, of course. It wasn't something to forget, but however terrifying it was, I think it has served me well nowadays. I could fight if necessary, though it has been rather quiet here."

"What's the Training?" Sam, Dean, and John asked simultaneously. 

"Angels were born to fight, but the Training made them warriors. We were taught to not care, that we were superior to humans, and to fight without mercy," Castiel replied, shifting uncomfortably. "The logic was certainly flawed, especially since it took place during the war."

"I agree," I said, glancing at the men. 

"How did you find your meat-suit?" Dean asked. 

"Vessel," Sam corrected. 

I was mildly surprised to be asked this question, but then again, the Winchesters always have been... spontaneous. Castiel opened his mouth to explain, but was quickly interrupted by me before he could even get one word out. "It is not impossible to make a vessel, at least with the help of an archangel such as Gabriel, my brother, who is acquainted with you if I am not mistaken. It takes nearly a century, at least in Earth time, which is why most angels appoint a vessel. I, however, was one of the more luckier ones who had more time. At least, more time before the war, or before the fall.

"Cas, she isn't lyin', is she?" Dean questioned.

"No, Hamaliel is being honest. The process of vessel-making is actually quite interesting. As long as you have time, the right mindset, and enough knowledge on humanity just as my sister does, it is possible," Castiel confirmed.

"Sounds like a lotta work to me," Dean whispered, but failed to do so quietly.

"That it was," I replied, looking at my feet again. 

All was silent once again until Sam spoke up. "Hamaliel, I'm- we're not sure how to phrase this, but we were hoping you could help us. You are, or were the Angel of Logic, correct?"

"Correct," I replied. 

"Right, so... we were wondering if you knew how we could possibly reverse the fall, and get all the angels back upstairs."

Sam's request had not taken me by surprise, but I hardly had a straight answer. Picking up my journal again, I turned to the first page and read, "'I do not have much time left to write, but I suppose that's alright. There is information swimming around in my head, knowledge only I know, secrets meant to be kept, but perhaps one day I could... clean my grace. I am sure I will find a way to do so, and I will remember all of... this. I dare not write it on paper in case I lose this journal and it lands in the wrong hands. Perhaps I will regret this decision. I know I could save lives, I could save my brothers and sisters, but I cannot risk it yet. Not if I have a chance of living,'" I finished the entry, and looked up to the group. "I have been researching ways as best as possible to filter my grace, considering it's beyond damaged, but to no avail. As I previously wrote, I know I can save my siblings; I cannot give up, but finding any information on reversing the fall has become impossible." I placed my fingers on my temples and rubbed, trying to cure myself of feeling overwhelmed. 

"Hmm... cleaning your grace, huh?" Dean asked, or rather stated.

"Yes, I assume that after I find a way to purify my grace, I could once again be Hamaliel, instead of Hanna LeAnne Vida, which is my alter ego of sorts. Like, Hanna for Hama, LeAnne for liel, and Vida, which in Italian is life. In fact, I would rather prefer it if you called me by Hanna. Anyways, once I have taken the currently tainted grace, I hope to reverse the fall, no matter how long it may take to achieve this goal."

Each member of the group had their own way of expressing their opinions towards this idea. The elder Winchester looked somewhat impressed. The younger of the two brothers was nodding his head, seemingly approving of the idea. Castiel and the Doctor were silently looking at each other, as if they were having a silent debate about whether or not the idea would work. John stayed silent, and Sherlock stared.

"Hey, guys. I have an idea. Hamali- Hanna, please excuse us for a moment," Sam said, then walked back to the previous corner where the group stood before the interrogation. I leaned back in my chair, and skimmed through my journal. I tried to concentrate on the entries, but I couldn't help but overhear bits of conversation.

"-too risky-"

"-but definitely helpful-"

"-betrayal-"

"-keep an eye on her-"

"Alright, fine. Fine! If we do this, and she ends up betraying us like most other angels, it's not my fault!" Dean exclaimed, though I was confused to why he did so.

"Of course we will have an eye on her, we aren't idiots! You have to consider this though: Cas seems to be fond of her, and hey, by helping her she'll be helping us. You're outnumbered, anyways," Sam retorted. 

"If you don't mind me asking, what is with all the arguing? What is going on?" I asked, standing up. 

"The only reason I'm not putting up a big fight is because she's hot," Dean pointed his thumb towards me, turned the other way, and leaned against the wall, sulking. I turned from Dean to the rest of the men, confusion blatant on my face. Sam rolled his eyes before saying, "Hanna, we would like you to come with us back to the bunker, and from there we could help each other with restoring Heaven back to its previous state." 

My eyes widened while my mouth slowly curved into a smile. I was offered help from these intelligent people, people who I knew had good souls and the right ideas. I couldn't help but be surprised, considering my siblings have, in the past, betrayed them. However, I was nonetheless happy. "Y-Yes, th-that would be a very c-convenient approach to this, b-but I rather not intrude," I stammered, seeing as I was very caught off guard- a feeling I wasn't used to.

"Considering it's us inviting you-" Sam began, but was again interrupted by his brother.

"More like you inviting her, Sam!" Dean yelled.

"I agreed with Sam, Dean," John replied.

"As did I," Castiel said. 

"She could be a potentially useful candidate for research," Sherlock added, while the Doctor nodded.

"Whatever," Dean mumbled, then continued walking about.

"Anyways," Sam tried again. "don't worry. It's obvious that most of us want you to come with us, isn't it?"

I paused, trying to find words, but I'll I could manage was a simple, "Yes". As unnaturally excited as I was, I added, "May I have until tomorrow morning? Before we go, that is."

Glancing at the others, Sam said, "Yeah, sure. Is something wrong?"

"No, I would just like to pack up all of my papers and a few other belongings, if that's alright with you," I replied, still timid.

"Uh, yeah, no problem. We'll meet you at the clearing we mentioned earlier, alright?" Sam smiled.

"That sounds reasonable," I nodded, smiling back.

"See you then."

"Until tomorrow." I watched as the men slowly left; Sam and the Doctor grinned, then waved, Castiel embraced me, John and Sherlock nodded, and Dean set my blade down on my desk, and said nothing. Immediately, I began to pack. I grabbed my satchel hanging off my chair, and stuffed my blade, my journal, my quill, and the vile of grace into it. As quickly, yet gently as I could, I began taking the parchment off the walls, and placed as many as possible into my satchel.

It was twilight by the time I had finally finished packing what I could, but I couldn't sleep. I felt like an excited schoolgirl, waiting for vacation, and it was... strange. Of course I had known what the feeling was, the exact definition, but feeling it myself was a whole new experience. I attempted to at least guess to why I was excited in the first place, and eventually determined that I was ready for change. I wanted... action. Excitement. I wanted to explore. It almost felt sinful, this curiosity, seeing as this longing for the new, something more is what started sin in the first place... but I couldn't care less. I'm only human, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :)


	4. Chapter Three: Where The Wild Things Are

I opened my eyes, realized that I had ultimately fallen asleep, then scrambled to the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, and hopefully, the TARDIS would be here. I found myself wishing I could have a premonition, just this once, to confirm my thoughts. Nevertheless, I grabbed my satchel from the adjacent room, took one last look around the rundown shack I called home, then made my way towards the clearing. It was a perfect, spring day: the sky was clear, the air smelled of trees, and as always, the ambience of the rushing river was calming. After hiking up a low hill, I began descending into the thicker region of the forest. As I journeyed farther, however, shade began to paint over light. I noticed my nerves resurfacing. I became paranoid for seemingly without reason, turning around if I heard twigs break, or leaves crunch. I convinced myself it was nothing but a rabbit or squirrel, not danger, and continued forward, but that did not stop me from flinching when I heard a noise. I hadn't fought in over a year. I wouldn't be prepared if I were to be attacked, angel blade (which I now had at my side, just in case) or not. Shaking these sorts of thoughts to the side, I forced myself deeper into the wilderness.

After five, long minutes of rushed walking, everything, without warning, fell silent. Even I stopped moving, stopped breathing. I could practically feel how close I was to the TARDIS; I knew I wanted to keep moving, but something made me stop dead in my tracks. That something was a sickly humid breath hitting my back, not to mention the growling noises coming from it. I felt like I were in a movie as I turned around only to be faced with a wolf. Well, three wolves to be exact. As soon as I had completely turned and looked at the first animal, I thrust my blade down into it's side. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. 

In an instant, I was pinned down, claws scraping down my arms, stomach, and legs. I unintentionally screamed, then with a startling amount of strength, moved my blade-carrying arm out from underneath its huge claws, and stabbed the underside of its jaw. The beast jumped off of me, nearly taking my blade with it. Within the last possible second, I grabbed my dagger, flipped the thing off of me, and jammed the weapon into its heart. Blood, and not just my own, splattered everywhere. I felt weaker than I should've been during battle, but before I could stabilize my breathing, the second wolf leaped at me. At what felt like the very last second, I struck its vulnerable chest and stumbled back before the corpse could completely cover me. I frantically stood up and searched for the third, only to find Sam, barely scratched, with his own blade buried in it. Behind Sam was Dean, knife poised for backup. 

I looked down at my body and lifted my arms, staring at the blood seeping out of the cuts.

"Oh my God," Sam breathed, then started towards me.

I took a step back. "No, I'm fine. Just a bit caught off guard."

"Fine? You're bleedin' everywhere, birdbrain. You've got a lotta training to do if you plan on stickin' with us. If we let you," Dean said.

"I have high pain tolerance. I will bandage them up in the TARDIS, if you don't mind," I replied.

Sam still looked weary. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, thank you for asking. It was just a small pack of wolves, nothing supernatural," I said, trying to wipe off some blood.

"Which is why you should be unscratched," Dean scolded. 

"Dean, I have not fought any living being of any kind in a year, possibly a year and a half. Therefore, of course I'm not in perfect condition to be fighting," I mumbled.

"Damn strai-"

"Glad we could help finish off the last one, Hanna," Sam intervened before Dean could finish.

"Thank you," I said, looking at the dead beasts. "not to push, but may we go inside the TARDIS? I've only seen from, well, premonitions, but it looks astonishing."

"Yeah. Let's just get you cleaned up. There's a med bay inside," Sam said, while Dean, unexpectedly, nodded.

We made our way to the clearing soon enough, with only some staggering. Both of the brothers offered their shoulders to balance myself on, but I declined. I wanted to be helpful, not hinder them. Yes, I was obviously losing blood, but I wouldn't let a simple wolf attack get the best of me. 

As soon as I reached the TARDIS, I began to feel excited once more. A new era was about to inevitably begin. A new chapter. Without a moment's notice, I pushed open the doors to see the Doctor working at the console, Sherlock watching the monitors, and John and Castiel idly chatting with each other. All conversation and movement stopped as they turned their heads toward me. Instead of feeling thrilled and confident as I had this morning, I felt self-conscious and vulnerable. I was never one for attention. 

"Oh my God," John gaped, jogging towards me. 

"I am alright, Jo-"

"I'm a doctor, and you are not alright," he said, looking over my wounds. "Doctor, can you lead us to the med bay?" 

"This way!" the Doctor rushed, running down the corridor. All the excitement and worrying was beginning to make me feel nauseous and weak. Without complaint, Sam and Dean each took one of my arms and threw it over their shoulders. By now, I was beginning to feel a little more than faint, but was refusing to let unconsciousness take me over. 

"Hang in there," Sam said, walking me into the me into the room. Even half conscious I could tell it was a nice, professional room- simple white walls, at least ten beds, and lots of equipment. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was on the bed. 

"Doctor, get me the kit, please," John said. 

"Do hurry. If she doesn't get an IV in her soon, she will fall unconscious in approximately one minute and thirty-eight seconds, for four hours and five minutes," I vaguely heard Sherlock say. Every noise, word, and voice, seemed to echo off the walls. 

"Right, got it," John replied, though I hardly registered the IV in my hand.

"I need to cut off this shirt and your pants, Hanna. It's for access to your cuts on your sides," Sam said, while I nodded as best I could. The last thing I felt was the needle, puncturing my sore skin.

~.~

I woke up slowly, enjoying the comfortable mattress below me until I felt a needle, this time in my shoulder. Trying hard not to flinch, I turned my head to look at my surroundings, only to find I was still in the medical bay. 

"Are you awake?" I heard Castiel ask. Lifting my head slightly, I saw him hovering over the end of my bed. 

"Yes," I replied, laying back my head. 

"Sorry this is taking awhile. I didn't realize how many cuts you had that needed stitching," Sam said, lifting his head slightly to look at me.

"No, thank you," I gulped, still feeling weak. "My apologies for being careless and wasting your time."

John laughed. "You're forgetting that we do this all the time."

I nodded. "How long was I unconscious? Where are Dean and Sherlock?" I asked, noticing that they were not in the room. 

"Approximately an hour, possibly two," the Doctor replied from across the room. "You had some pretty big gashes; I'm surprised, really. We all thought you'd be unconscious for much longer." Cas and John nodded.

"Dean isn't the type to stick around and wait. He's- sorry," Sam paused as I flinched. "Last one. Anyways, he's probably in his room or the kitchen. Sherlock is avoiding social interaction, as usual," he grinned. 

"And on that note, I'm going to go check on him, if everything's good here," John said, eyeing me. 

"Of course, and thank you, Doctor Wat-" I began. 

"Just John, please," he smiled, then left. 

"Really, thank all of you, but this is unnecessary; you should be working a case," I said, watching Sam tie up the last stitch. 

"Well, for the past couple of weeks, you've been our case," Sam said. "and saving people is what we do. How do you feel?"

I looked around the room, taking it all in, then back to Sam. "Great. I feel great. I am just... adjusting, I assume. It is quite a change of environment." Sam chuckled as the Doctor started over. 

"Feeling great enough to take a look at the console room? And your room, as well," the Time Lord asked. 

"It would be a pleasure," I replied, before slipping the IV out and adding, "but I do not wish to intrude. I can sleep in here, if I am required to stay."

"We invited you to come along with us, didn't we?" Sam asked. 

"No guest is an intruder here," the Doctor continued. 

Sam nodded. "Not to mention, you've said going to help us, and at this point, we need all the help we can get. We cant find anything-"

"Not a clue," the Doctor interrupted, shaking his head with Castiel. 

"-on anything regarding moving you guys back upstairs." Sam finished. 

"I will help as much as I can. Once we find a way to re-purify my grace, I'm sure we will find a way to do so," I replied. 

Sam grinned and offered me his hand. "Good to hear. Ready to get up?" 

"Definitely." I took his hand and lifted myself up until I looked down, let go of Sam, grasped onto the covers, and pulled them up. 

"Whoa! What's up?" Sam asked. 

"You cut off my clothes."


	5. Chapter Four: Homecoming

The Doctor led me, me wearing nothing but a thin bed sheet wrapped around my body, into the wardrobe room. According to Castiel, I "should be resting", I'm "in poor condition", but I objected. The Doctor had asked me if I wanted to take a look and pick something out to wear. I never wanted to abuse my privileges but assumed that it would be alright, considering it was being offered to me. Still, I asked, "Are you positive you don't mind me taking clothes?"

The Doctor placed a hand on my shoulder, and laughed. "Well, we can't have you running around, working cases naked, can we?" 

I blushed, silently cursing myself for my stupidity. "No, that wouldn't be logical."

The Time Lord's grin never seemed to cease. He clapped his hands, then threw open the door to wardrobe with a flourish. 

Just looking from the threshold, I felt my eyes widen. 

"Well, go on, then!" The Doctor exclaimed. 

Cautiously, I took a step into the giant, circular room. The whole wall was covered with clothes, hanging on one long rod going all the way around the wall, minus the entrance. I looked over my shoulder back at the Doctor, smiling slightly once he gave me two thumbs-up and closed the door. Turning back, I froze in my spot. I had no idea where to start, not with this much... variety. Glancing around the room, I set down my satchel and walked towards the tops. Scanning the shirts, I finally came across a silky tan button up about my size. It was definitely an upgrade from the dirty, torn green top I had worn ever since the fall. Spinning around, I made my way towards the jeans, picking out a navy green pair. Last, I browsed the shoes that seemed seemed roughly my size, and took a pair of faded brown boots with army green laces. Quickly picking out undergarments, I dropped my sheet instantly and dressed. 

Adjusting my sleeves, I stepped in the mirror and looked at my chosen outfit, and could not help but be pleased with the choice. 

Grabbing my satchel, I made my way back to the console room with little difficulty. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I stared at the console. In Heaven, I was the recorder of humanity- never had I ever seen something so... alien. 

From behind me, I heard someone clear their throat. I spun around, only to see Sam smiling. 

"Hey, nice choice of clothes. Bit of an upgrade, right?" Sam complimented. With his hands in his pockets, he walked closer towards me. 

"Thank you, and yes, definitely," I replied, smiling. 

"No problem," he returned the smile. "Anyways, I just wanted to tell you in case you didn't know that we usually ride in the TARDIS if the case takes place farther away, and the Impala if it's closer," Sam began. "Instead of using motels like we used to, we each have our own room in the TARDIS, with the exception of Cas and Dean, and John and Sherlock, who share a room. As you might already know, we usually stay in the bunker to do research, or if we aren't on a case. You'll be getting a room there, too."

I nodded. "Thank you. I cannot tell you how grateful I am, honestly. I really do appreciate it."

The younger Winchester smiled. "It's really no problem. If Cas trusts you, then so do we. Thank you for coming to help us out." he pauses. "You know, we're gonna have to retrain you, if you plan on going on cases that might pop up during your stay."

"That sounds great," I said, smiling. 

"Good to hear. Hey, I'll be in my room if you need me. I want to start researching this grace purifying. Sounds interesting," he says, pointing behind him. "Go straight, turn on your first left. Fourth door on the right."

"Alright. Thanks again, Sam," I waved. 

"Like I said, no problem. Feel free to explore!" He waved back, then disappeared into the hall. I stared back at the console, then the surroundings. Above me were huge, white circles with what could only be Gallifreyan symbols inscribed on them. Lights, almost similar to targets, were lit up around the walls. There also seemed to be a second story, or rather just a lifted platform to look around on. I decided to go down into the same hall Sam had, and tried the first door I came across. 

"Dean, that's the Doctor's last pie. Dont you think you should ask?" I heard Castiel say, trying to reach a cherry pie Dean was holding above his own head. 

"Cmon, he wont notice Ca-" Dean started, until he saw me. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I apologize for the interruption; Sam said I should explore, and this was the first room I came across," I said quickly. 

Castiel whipped his head around and looked at me. "Hello, Hamaliel! Or Hanna. You should be resting, seriously."

"Either one, Castiel, and I'm feeling better. I promise," I replied. 

"Alright, fine. Need help looking for something?" 

"No-"

"She's alright" Dean interrupted. 

"Dean," Castiel glared at his lover. 

"No, it's fine, Castiel. I'm alright. I will leave you two in pea- oh, Cas, the pie," I pointed to Dean, now eating the pie whole with his hands. 

"We'll catch up later! DEAN!" my brother finished. Before I could watch any of the chaos unfold, I shut the door and started down the hall. 

Upon my journey I came across several rooms: an indoor garden, a pool (at least the size of a parking lot!), a skating rink, a labortory, bathrooms, the library (which was also very vast- I promised myself to come back later), and last, an observation room. The latter of rooms had a flat, glass floor, a huge telescope, and circular walls, also glass. It seemed thick enough to walk on, so that's exactly what I did. All around me was space- planets, stars, asteroids, everything. I felt a giddy sensation beginning my chest, to which then I realized that I hadn't felt happy, I suppose in at least a year. I never smiled, but now, being here in the TARDIS, I couldn't stop. Everything was changing, and, for once, it was for the better. 

As I did with the library, I left the room with a promise to come back. Once again, I continued down the never ending corridor, only coming to a stop when I heard muffled voices. 

"Got it," I heard Sherlock say through the door. "your turn, John."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Show off," John grumbled. 

I knocked, curious to what was happening behind the door me. 

ZZZT!

"Bloody hell!" John yelled, then sighed. "Come in."

Gingerly, I opened the door, which revealed a large room set with a ping pong table, an air hockey table, shelves of board games, and Sherlock and John sitting at a coffee table, playing Operation. 

"Oh, hey Hama- I mean, Hanna," John said. 

"Hello, Hamaliel," Sherlock said, then turned back to his game. 

"Cant we redo that one? The door distracted me," John complained. 

"That would be unnecessary. You still would've lost, going by your thirty-eight degree angle and how you positioned the heart to be inserted," Sherlock declared. 

John sighed and rolled his eyes, then turned to me. "Hanna, the Doctor was looking for you. He's in the console room," he paused, before adding, "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Thank you. Enjoy your game," I left, but not before hearing John huff something along the lines of 'Yeah, right'. 

Surprisingly enough, I found my way back to the console room in under ten minutes. "Doctor?" I called. 

"Down here, Hanna!" I heard him yell from below me. After navigating my way back to the steps, I saw the Doctor tinkering with some wires below the console. "I see you've found clothes!"

I laughed. "The room was huge, how could I not have found clothes?" 

"True. So," he set down the wires he was working with, and stood up. "now that you've explored around a bit, I think it's time for you to see your room, yes?"

I nodded. "That would be fantastic. Go ahead and lead the way, if you will."

The Doctor smiled, nearly sprung out of his seat, then led me back down the corridor and to my room. Before I could reach for the doorknob, the Doctor leaned against the door. "Ready?" he asked. 

"Yes, whenever you are," I nodded excitedly. 

"Are you sure?"

I barely held back a laugh. "Yes!"

The Time Lord smiled, and dramatically opened the door. Timidly, I passed through the threshold and felt my jaw drop. The walls were midnight blue, and above the bed (located in the middle of the back wall) on the ceiling was a large, glass covered hole revealing space above. To my left I saw a closet, a bookshelf, and two milky white chairs, the same color of my bed sheets. To my right, I saw two more bookshelves and a desk. 

"The TARDIS arranged the room, seeing as she is both a living conscious and taking a liking to you, which is always a good thing," the Doctor said. 

"It's... oh my Father, it's lovely," I breathed. 

"I agree. Oh, she also arranged clothes you might like based on what you're wearing in this closet, but you're always welcome to go back to the dressing room."

I turned around to look at the Doctor. "I can not thank you all enough. Thank the TARDIS for me, too," I said, shakily. I was overwhelmed with joy. 

"Of course. Thank you for helping with the fall. It's a very big deal, especially with the Winchesters and Castiel. Sherlock, John, and I want to help, but we can only do so much. Speaking of which, Sam is the bedroom to the left of you, and Sherlock and John are to the right."

I nodded, still entranced by my room. 

"Well, I'll leave you to it. It's about... six thirty pacific coast time, and Cas and Dean are cooking tonight, which isn't something to miss. Oh, and for desert? Pie!" the Doctor finished heading to the door. 

"Thank y- oh! I came across the kitchen earlier, where Cas and Dean were. Dean sort of... ate the pie."

"Of course he did," The Doctor said, shaking his head, then leaving me to marvel in my new room. I felt unnaturally happy, and threw my satchel against the chair. I ran towards my bed, and jumped onto it, back first. Laughter bubbled out of me, which, oddly enough, shocked me. Now, I was no longer Hamaliel, Angel of the Lord, alone in her Heaven, spending her days writing about humanity. I was Hanna Vida, human, ready not only for adventure, but help as much as possible, for as long as needed. 

I prayed it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :).


	6. Chapter Five: A Study In Sam Winchester

The next morning I found myself knocking on Sam's door, praying to Father himself he was awake. Before long, he opened the door. 

"Hey, what's up, Hanna?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. 

I froze. "I- did I wake you?"

He shook his head, grinning, "No, no, I've just been researching all night. Tired."

"Oh; I was going to ask you if you found anything, but you should rest."

"Nah, I'm used to it. Want to come in? I'll show you what I've got."

"If you don't mind."

"I wouldn't have invited you inside if I had," he moved to the side and smiled. I returned the smile, noting that the more Sam did, the more contagious it was for a reason I could not identify. Whereas that should have alarmed me, I was preoccupied admiring Sam's room. Elegantly carved beams made of glazed oak wood stood proudly against each tan colored wall, bookshelves lining the space in between each one. The ceiling above was a light cream color, contrasting to the dark wooden floor below. A desk, the same color as the floor was pushed off to the side, a laptop and countless papers scattered across it. His bed lay off to the adjacent side, the crimson bed sheet oddly fitting in with the rest of the colors. 

"I doubt there is one unpicturesque room in the TARDIS," I said, turning to look back at the intricate designs on a column. 

"Oh, I dont know. The oil factory room is pretty gross," Sam stated. 

I twisted back to Sam, and tilted my head. "You aren't serious."

"Who knows? The TARDIS interior is infinite," he chuckled. 

I smiled, shaking my head. "So, what did you find?"

"Oh, right! Come here," he sat down, took out another chair, and motioned for me to sit as well. Pulling up a page on his laptop, he pointed at the screen and turned it towards me. "So get this- the good news is that there are people, or rather a species- Nephillim, half angel, half human, who understand how to keep their grace clean. Like, separating humanity from purity. Bad news is that there aren't anymore, not since a little before the fall, which already you know."  
"I have heard of Nephilim, but there aren't anymore? Why?" I asked.

"You dont know? Not through premonitions, or just... shouldn't you know from watching over Earth?"

"The premonitions are random, and if I remember correctly, they weren't as frequent during the months prior to the fall. My duty was more so documenting humanity rather than the other creatures that inhabit it." 

"Ah... well... listen, uh... you know that Castiel was tricked by Metatron, right?"

"Yes; it was strange, that premonition wasn't shown to me while it was happening. I saw it after I had reached the house. After I fell."

Sam inclined forward, looking slightly solemn. "Please, don't freak out, let me explain. You see, Castiel... he thought he was helping Metatron with the war going on in Heaven, but he tricked Cas into doing tasks such as killing the last Nephilim, kickstarting the fall."

My eyes widened. "That's horrible. Metatron, I mean. As for Castiel... I know he was trying to do good. He isn't bad at heart."

Sam nodded, then looked back at his computer. "Well, you never know. There could be a whole group of them we don't know about, like the Doctor and the Daleks sort of thing," he finished, shut his laptop, then turned over back to me. "You know, you're not like most angels. Even at this point, most are still out for Cas's blood."

I shrugged. "I guess I have an unfair advantage," Grinning, I pointed to my head, causing Sam to smirk. "however, in all seriousness it's unfortunate, what Heaven has come to."

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at me with apologetic, brown eyes.

"Thank you."

Together, we sat in comfortable silence, glancing at the papers and about the room before Sam spoke up again, saying, "Hey, since we aren't on a case and we've got all the time we need," he gestures to the TARDIS, arms up. "do you want to go train?"

Grinning, I stood up, "Sounds great."

~.~

A bit of navigation and a few corridors later, we had arrived inside the training room. Not only did we find weapons ranging from pistols to scythes, but there were punching bags, mats, and dummies. 

"I thought the Doctor was more of a pacifist," I breathed, looking around the large room. 

"Oh, he is. Dean, Sherlock, John, and I convinced him to show us this room; considering all of us know the TARDIS is infinite, we knew there had to be one somewhere."

"That must have taken a considerable amount of time, convincing him," I commented. 

"Yeah, about an hour. Still, we need to train if this isn't an enemy we can take down through the Doctor's tactics, and we have to result to the old-fashioned way. Anyways," Sam walked to the opposite side of the mat we stood on. "show me what you've got." He motioned with his hands for me to come at him, all with a teasing smile planted on his face. 

I smirked, knowing whole-heartedly that this was a challenge. Without hesitation, I tossed off my jacket and angel blade, and ran at the man, fists clenched. Just when I had reached the moose of a man, he grabbed my arm, hooked one leg around one of mine, and pinned me to the floor. I frowned and he grinned, helping me back up. 

"It's not fair; I'm a former angel who hasn't fought in decades, and you're a Winchester," I said, brushing myself off. 

Sam laughed, moving back to his position. "Just keep working at it. Think how the enemy thinks."

I nodded and went at it again, ducking as Sam threw his first punch. I aimed for his gut, only to be blocked. From there on out, he met every blow of mine, blocking each and every one. Eventually, he grabbed my waist and brought me down. "So, is this better than writing and researching all day or what?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. Is this a continuation of the interrogation?"

"No, nothing like that. I mean, don't people ask questions to get to know each other?"

I hesitated, and slightly tilted my head. "I suppose it is one of the ways to get to know someone." Taking advantage of the light conversation, I flipped Sam over, him taking my spot on the floor. 

"Nice job," he said. 

"Thank you," I smirked, then thought for a moment. "What's your favorite book?"  
He laughed, confusingly enough. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Nothing, it was just unexpected. Shouldn't you know?" Sam winked. 

"Im the Angel of Logic, of reasoning conduct and documenter of humanity, not the Angel of All Knowledge Regarding Sam Winchester."

He laughed once more, a glint in his eyes. "It's the Fellowship of the Ring. You've got an attitude on you, huh?" 

"That one is the best of the series. As for your opinion on me, not usually. Only when I'm fighting and I happen to be losing," I rolled off of him. 

He smiled. "I know the feeling. Anyways, try using your body more, twisting around and such. Oh, and keep your hands close. In this case, you may want to go for my waist if you're trying to bring me down, considering I have a height advantage."

I nodded, taking the information in. Returning to our places on the mat, I turned suddenly and pummeled into his stomach, knocking him down. 

The younger Winchester groaned, and I quickly got off of him. "Oh my Father! I... Im sorry for hurting you! Are you alright?"

"No, that was good! You're all good. However, for knocking me down and asking if I'm alright, well... that counts as your question for winning."

I huffed. "Fine."

~.~

Sam and I sat down on a bench, resting. We had been training for at least two hours, all while learning about each other. I had told him what Heaven was like before the war, information about me personally such as my favorite things, and other nonsense. He told me about some of the crazier hunts they had that I had never seen and his own favorite things. 

"That was fun," he breathed, bringing over two cups of water for us. 

"Fun, but tiring. Thank you for training me. On another note, I still cannot believe your favorite animal isn't a moose," I said, grinning teasingly. 

"For the last time, it was Crowley who gave me the stupid nickname!" he yelled, sending us both into a fit of laughter. "I can't believe how shy you were two days ago, and now look at the pair of us.". 

"I don't necessarily see it as a bad thing," I shrugged. 

"Me neither," he said, still smiling. "it's nice to talk to another angel that isn't looking to spill our blood. Cas seems to hold you in high regard, too."

"As do I for him. I was never really one to want to spill anyone's blood, minus demons or any other evil creatures."

Sam opened his mouth to speak once more, but was interrupted by Dean, who walked through the door. "We've gotta case."

"Already?" Sam questioned, getting up to talk to his brother. "Weren't we going to help out Hanna and, you know, put the angels back upstairs?"

"Yeah, well, we dont have any current leads, so we took the case," Dean retorted. 

"Oh, I meant to tell you guys," Sam began, informing Dean about the Nephilim and how they could possibly help. 

"Its a good start, that is if there actually are some of these things still alive, but John and I are itchin' for a hunt. We can postpone it," Dean argued, giving Sam a look that meant this conversation is over. 

The younger Winchester sighed in defeat. "Alright then, what've we got?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :).


	7. Chapter 6: Love and Loss

"Guy named Evan Sanchez called," Dean informed once everyone had gathered in the console room. "old friend of Bobby's, I guess. Says he keeps seeing his wife who bit the dust 'bout three years back."

"Sounds like a simple salt and burn," Sam replied, crossing his arms as the Doctor slowly nodded. 

"Yeah, well, here's the catch: Caspar the Friendly Ghost knocks on this guy's door, comes inside, and holds up a conversation. Not only that, he can feel her, like she's alive. Even has a heartbeat."

"I doubt it's a spirt or ghost of any kind, then," I intervened. "however, it must be a creature who has seen his wife before-"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. We, the hunters, know what we're doing. Unlike you, an angel who's been sitting on her-"

"Dean," Sam started. "consider the possibilities. What if she's right? Im not saying you aren't, but, I mean, she was the Angel of Logic."

"Angel of Logic this, Angel of Logic that, I get it. But here's the key word: was," Dean shot back, leaving me feeling a little more than slightly uncomfortable. "If this thing isn't a spirt or some branch off of one, then we'll do what we gotta do, just like always, alright?"

John cleared his throat. "Doctor, you know where we're headed to?"

"Yes, the TARDIS has traced the call," the Time Lord declared, pulling down a last lever. 

"Here we go again," Sherlock sighed. 

~Brentwood, New Hampshire~

Upon opening the door, we were greeted with the scent of spring. I glanced about the small neighborhood, surrounded in trees, sun shining through their vibrant green leaves. Once everyone had left the TARDIS, we began walking towards our destination. It was a calm and quiet walk until Dean noticed me, then stood in my path. 

"Why aren't you back in the TARDIS?" he asked, practically growling. 

"Why would I be?" I asked. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You're not here to hunt with us, you're here to-"

"Dean," Sam interrupted. "chill out. Just because she's helping us with one case, doesnt mean shes useless. Shes actually not that bad of a fighter, and a simple case like this one might be a good warm-up."

"What if she messes up, Sam? Huh?"

"Shes learning, or relearning, or whatever like we did, Dean!"

"You're talkin' like she's stayin'," Dean crossed his arms. "not only that, you're getting all sentimental about this girl, or angel, or whatever for nothin.'"

"Dean, lets talk about this later. We have a case to work on," Castiel called from a porch, to my luck. Without another word, Dean left. 

"Im sorry about my brother. He'll get better once he's used to you, he's just... uneasy around strangers," Sam said, as we began walking towards the house of interest. 

"Thank you. Its alright, I understand," I replied. Sam grinned for a fraction of a second, then stuffed his hands back in his pockets. It wasnt until we had reached the porch when anyone began talking again. 

"Shouldn't some of us be better off staying in the TARDIS? This guy might not be comfortable with five strangers in his house, excluding Sam and Dean," John said before anyone had knocked on the door. 

"No," Sherlock deadpanned. 

"Reason being...?"

"Because Mr. Sanchez has already heard us talking and shuffling our feet across his porch. Considering we havent knocked, he has become impatient and anxious, resulting in-"

"Hey boys... and girl; what can I do for ya?" A man no other than Evan Sanchez answered the door, causing us to turn around.

"Right on time," Sherlock breathed. 

"Evan Sanchez, right?" Sam questioned. 

"Who's asking?" the man asked. 

"Me, the same guy who picked up the phone and took the case, regarding your... uh, sprit sightings of sorts," Dean answered, stepping forward. 

"Ah, Dean, is it?" The man shook Dean's hand. "Thanks for comin'. Bobby told me to call if somethin' weird came up. Shame to hear he passed; he was a great fella."

Dean nodded, obviously wanting to get off the subject. "Yeah. You a hunter, too?" 

"No, no. I knew Bobby was along with a few others, but I was never cut out to be one. I met him back way back in high school. We reconnected with each a couple years back when I bumped into him in Tennessee, while on vacation. Of all the places," he laughed and shook his head. "So I understand you and your lil' brother Sam are hunters too, but uh... who are your friends?"

"Oh, right. It's our..."

"Team," Sam finished for Dean. "Castiel, the Doctor-"

"Just the Doctor, please," the Time Lord added. 

"-Sherlock, John, and Hanna."

"Damn, that's a lot of people," Mr. Sanchez remarked. 

"Yes, but it's also helpful as long as everyone's on the same page," Castiel countered. 

"Alright. Team's a team. Anyways, come in."

On the exterior, the house looked older, but the interior was rather the complete opposite. We didn't have enough time to look around in more detail, seeing as we were being ushered into the kitchen, but it was quite the overhaul. Dark, glazed wooden planks made up the floor, along with matching tables and chairs. Red couches surrounding a fireplace and the flat screen television above it took up most of the space, along with a staircase behind them. Cream colored walls complimented each feature in the room well enough. 

While grabbing a few extra chairs, Mr Sanchez said, "This is where I usually see her. I'll be eating up here, and she'll walk in, have a seat, and we'll talk."

"Weren't you shocked?" Sam asked, taking out a notepad and a pen. 

"Well, sure, at first. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn't be? In the end, though... who in their right mind would want to let an opportunity like this pass them up? A second chance?" Mr. Sanchez replied.

Sam and Dean shifted uncomfortably. The Doctor cleared his throat, then asked, "She isnt, by any chance, completely white, was she?"

"Oh God, that was six years ago! They weren't even ghosts!" Sherlock exclaimed, as I flinched at the sound of him using my Father's name in vain. 

"Im just taking precautions," the Doctor calmly retorted. 

"No, she looks exactly like any other alive human being," Evan said, as Dean nodded.

"And you usually see her when you eat?" Castiel questioned. 

"I told you guys all of this," Dean replied.

"More precautions," I spoke up, only to fall under Dean's disapproving stare. 

"Right," Evan confirmed, sighing. 

"Was your wife cremated?" Sam asked. 

"...Yeah. Why?"

"Trust me, it matters."

"Is there a certain pattern to her visits? Certain days, weeks, months?" John asked. 

"Well, its only been goin' on for a month or three. As for any other patterns... nah. I see her at least... hmm... four times a week? Sometimes even twice on the same day."

As he was writing information down, Sam asked, "When was the last time you saw her?"

"This morning at approximately eight-thirty Eastern Standard Time for breakfast. The crumbs of toast left on this table spread from where Mr. Sanchez sits to the opposite side of the table. Unless he eats laying across the table during one half of breakfast and in his seat for another half, which is of course, highly improbable, then his... wife, Priscilla, was here," Sherlock looked up and off the table at Evan. "Oh, it's simple. I know her name because you left your... memory book open on the coffee table."

"But how-"

"Dont ask," the Doctor said. 

"Mr. Sanchez, if you are happy with this second chance, why did you call us?"

The man in questioning sighed. "Well, I read up on some stuff because, well, Priscilla..." he lowered his voice. "seemed a little off. I came across a piece of information stating that ghosts arent ever really at peace until they are in whatever the afterlife may be. I mean, she seems happy for the most part, but... y'know. I love her, and I want her to be happy. Not uncomfortable. I rather not mention it to her, though. She would convince me to let her stay and I would oblige, and then she might turn out to be one of those nasty ghosts. Angry ones."

Sherlock said something under his breath along the lines of, "For someone who was friends with hunters, you are incredibly oblivious."

"So, mind lettin' us look around?" Dean sighed, standing up when no one else spoke. 

"Wait," I began, right when something came to mind. "I have one last question. Was your wife, by any chance, any different appearance wise? Different clothes, makeup, or lack of?"

Mr. Sanchez cocked an eyebrow, then said, "No, I don't thi- wait. There is one thing." Castiel tilted his head, John and Sherlock stared intently, and the Doctor's eyes widened with a look that craved for answers. Sam looked up from his notepad, and Dean turned around, gaze questioning. 

"What might that be?" the Doctor asked. 

"A heart-shaped necklace. Gave it to her on our wedding day; it's upstairs. Go ahead and look around, if you want."

"Thank you," I finished, then started up the stairs. 

Whilst walking up the stairs, Sam finished up writing, and said, "That was a good piece of information, Hanna. Thanks for speaking up." 

I looked back at him and replied, "Oh, yes. I just thought it might help. You never know."

"Have you ever interrogated someone before?"

"No, I've only observed and been apart of one."

"Wow. You definitely did better than Cas on his first time," Sam said, trying not to laugh, while Castiel shot him a glare. 

"I tried my best," Castiel mumbled. 

Dean swung an arm over his shoulder and smiled, "Cmon, y'know he's just messin' with you, sweetheart." Sam still managed to not burst out laughing; however, he did turn around and cover his mouth with one giant hand. Before long, Sherlock strode back into the hall we stood in from Mr. Sanchez's bedroom to which he (hesitantly) lent us for searching. From the detective's hand  
the necklace dangled. 

"While you four were busy fooling around, we went and found this," he said. The Doctor took it out of his hands, and abruptly licked it. 

"Silver," the Gallifreyan said, putting it back in a disgusted Sherlock's hand, who then put it around John's neck. 

"So, what are we going to do with it? Is it even important to the case?" the blogger asked, cleaning the saliva off the pendant with his shirt. 

"Of course it is, John," Sherlock replied. "It's obviously important to Mr. Sanchez and... possibly his wife. It is, however, questionable to why her ghost is not wearing it. Fortunately for us, because Mrs. Sanchez, Priscilla, whatever you prefer to call her is cremated, and we don't have to pry this necklace off of her, we can conveniently destroy it and get on with our lives."

"I don't think that Evan would be happy with us if we were to take this necklace out of his house and break it," The Doctor countered. 

Dean shrugged. "We do what we gotta do, right?"

The Doctor sighed and mumbled something to himself, then proceeded downstairs.

"Guy needs to grow a pair of balls," Dean said. 

"No, I think he's dealt with a lot of violence in his days. Lost a lot of friends," John started for the stairs.

"Yeah, haven't we all?" came Dean's reply underneath his breath. 

After retreating downstairs and saying goodbye to Mr. Evan Sanchez, along with telling him to call us if we are ever needed again, we made our way outdoors on the pavement right outside of the TARDIS door. 

"So this is it, right? We destroy the necklace, then we're off on another case?" Sam asked. 

"Looks like it," Dean said, throwing the necklace to the ground. "just thank God we're actually getting a break for once with this one."

"I'm confused," I said, staring at the necklace. "If the necklace really was her most prized possession, why didn't she wear it? Why can she still wear clothes, but not that?"

"Sprits of any kind that haven't moved on to Heaven or Hell and stay on Earth wear what they wore at their time of death. Perhaps she wasn't wearing her necklace," Cas replied. 

"That, along with it being difficult to move physical objects when you're a ghost, so I'm told," John added. 

"Oh, alright," I replied, watching intently as Dean smashed the necklace with the heel of his foot, breaking it into multiple pieces, as well as taking a match out and melting the remains. 

"Lunch, then?" The Doctor asked. 

"Im up for some Chicago pizza," Dean said, then walked inside the time machine. 

~.~ 

It didn't take long for us to find a pizza place, get our food, and start up a conversation.

"And then-" Sam paused, laughing while trying to swallow his food. "Dean's like, 'I think this is all a misunderstanding!'"

The men surrounding me bursted into laughter at Sam's story, while I sat and smiled. Looking down, I stared at my untouched food: a Meat Lover's pizza suggested by Dean, and a creme soda suggested by the Doctor. 

"Arent you hungry?" Sam asked, nudging my elbow. I lifted my head to look back at him. 

"Yes, Ive just... never tried it before."

"So what're you going to do, stare at it? Don't knock it til yah try it," Dean said.

"Yes, of course... I just have never tried pizza," I said, picking up the piece by the crust, as I was told to do so. 

A very audible gasp came from Dean. "Youve been alive for what, centuries? And youve never had pizza?!"

"I-"

"Never had an oppurnity. None of us did in Heaven. We didnt eat anyways, apart from Gabriel and his candy," Castiel finished for me, while I nodded in agreement. Just as I was about to take my first bite, one of Sam's many cell phones rang, much to our surprise. The Doctor whipped out his sonic and scanned the phone as Sam answered, mouthing, "Evan" to the rest of us.

"Hi, Mr. Sanchez?" Sam greeted, confusion evident in his voice. Before long, his eyes widened. "We'll be right over." The Winchester clicked off the phone, then aburptly stood up. "His wife is there, then he yelled, and his phone hit the floor. Broke."

"How? How is she-" John started, only to be cut off by the Doctor. 

"We're wasting time!" he cried, then ran towards the TARDIS. Automatically, Sherlock, John, Castiel, and Sam began running after the Time Lord. 

Dean looked down sorrowfully at his food, took one last, huge bite, and quickly ushered me up. "C'mon, lets go!"

We had made it back to the house at about a minute after Sam had hung up. Not bothering to knock, Sherlock kicked down the door. Had I any idea before the detective revealed what lie ahead, I would've better prepared myself. Ahead of us lie Mr. Sanchez, panic evident in his eyes, tied to a wooden chair. Bound were his hands, feet, stomach, along with duct tape around his mouth. Without a thought, The Doctor walked towards the man, only to be tackled by a skinny, yet surprisingly strong, pale woman with long, dark brown hair: Priscilla. The Time Lord grunted, then placed his hands on her wrists, her hands pinning him down, and pulled them off of his chest with a strained shout. He scrambled away, then took out his sonic. 

"Get down!" Sam yelled, pulling out his shotgun. Not a second later, John and Dean had theirs out as well, taking aim and firing. With each hit the shells exploded, a substance that looked like rock salt leaking out from each one. Priscilla whipped around, visibly angry. 

"What the hell?" Dean yelled, still shooting. The woman walked closer to the Winchester, yanked the gun out of his hands, and aimed it at his eye. Before she could pull the trigger, Dean ducked and Castiel came up from behind her and hit her with the butt of his gun, knocking her to the floor at Sherlock's and my feet. Priscilla let out an angry, inhuman scream as her eyes flashed white. I hurriedly backed away, while the consulting detective glared at the struggling... creature on the floor. 

"Shapeshifter! Shes a shapeshifter!" Sherlock yelled. 

"NO!" The monster wailed, getting up to throw a punch a Sherlock, hitting him square in the jaw with a crunch. 

"Sherlock!" John called.

"Hanna, quit standing there! Go find something silver!" Dean spat, trying to fight off 'Priscilla', who was now attacking John. 

"We don't have anything? Blades, bullets?" Sam shouted over the madness. 

"No!" Cas replied. 

"GO!" Dean yelled once more at me. I glanced at the creature attacking John, only to find it glaring at me. Without another thought, I ran into the nearest room, the shapeshifter right behind me. I slammed the kitchen door shut and locked it for good measure, though I doubted it would hold. Ignoring the booming pounding and the frustrated shouts of the men most likely trying to pry the thing off the door, I searched around for...

"Hanna, quit standing there! Go find something silver!"

Silver. Commonly found inside houses in kitchens, jewelry boxes, and display cabinets. 

I looked around, only to confirm that I was, in fact, in the kitchen. Acting quickly, seeing as cracks were beginning to form in the wood of the door, I rushed about the room. 

Silver in kitchens: doorknobs, steak knives, silverware itself...

Well obviously, the men outside want to kill the Priscilla doppelgänger, and at this point, it seems we hardly have a choice. 

"HANNA!" John yelled, only to be followed by another savage snarl from the monster. I ran to a nearby knife holder and pulled out one of the makeshift weapons. As if on que, when I went to open the door, it broke and in tumbled the shapeshifter. Dean and Sherlock jumped into action, the Winchester pining down it's wrists and the detective holding its ankles. Before Dean could finish yelling "Now!", century-old instincts kicked in me, and in plunged the knife, straight into the monster's heart. I twisted blade deeper, watching as the life in it's eyes slowly died out. It took me a minute to compose myself and finally take the blade out, but once I did, I got to my feet and glanced back to face the men. 

"Well," Castiel began, still starting at the dead creature on the floor. 

"That takes care of that," Dean finished, walking to Mr. Sanchez. 

Instead of moving, I felt as if my feet were glued to the floor. It had been centuries since I had last killed a monster, much less anything. 

"You alright, Hanna?" Sam tapped my shoulder, and stood in front of me, blocking my view from the corpse. I shook out of my trance of sorts, and looked up at Sam. 

"Yes... yes. Thank you for asking, I just... I havent killed anything in a very, very long time," I noted. 

"I understand. It's really overwhelming. When we get back, I'll help explain things a bit more throughly. Sound good?" 

"Yes, sounds good."

He grinned, then patted my shoulder. I flinched- it did not hurt, but the gesture was so foreign to me. Staying out of the way, I stood by the couches, watching as the men untied a relieved Mr. Sanchez. "Thank you," he said, brushing the rest of the ropes off his arms.. "for-"

"Having Hanna murder a monster disguised as your late wife? Yes, of course," Sherlock replied. 

"Uh... yeah. That," Evan replied.

"We're sorry," Castiel said, when nothing was left to say. 

"Why? Im glad this thing's dead, it manipulated me. On top of that, it had the guts to mock my wife, which leads me to the question: why did it in the first place?" Mr. Sanchez commented. 

"It was lonely," I stated. 

As soon as Evan opened his mouth to question me, Sherlock jumped in. "Let me clarify, because you are inevitably going to spout off some idiotic question regarding why. Hanna is correct- the creature was lonely, not to mention, desperate. It must have watched you and Priscilla from afar four years past. Once Priscilla died, it saw the perfect chance to get to know you from afar- your daily schedule, foods you eat, nighttime rituals, etcetera. After it finally felt like it knew you enough to pass as your wife, it struck you at your most recent, vulnerable time- the anniversary of her death- and decided thats how it would integrate itself into your life. You were lonely, it was lonely, and thus the gaps were filled."

"It wanted to be loved, basically. It must've thought that in its eyes that this mess would be the best way to do it," John summarized. 

Mr. Sanchez shakes his head in disgust. "Oh, God... okay. Well, thanks for getting rid of... her."

"I know that to you, Mr. Sanchez, it may look like it's your wife in your eyes, but... it wasnt. It was just a thing trying to gain your affections for its own benefit," Castiel said. 

"Yeah, I..." he sighed. "I know." With one last look of gratitude from the man, another thank you, and a bit of cleanup, we were back in the TARDIS, silent with our thoughts.


	8. Eriss

"Attacks with claws, and includes the ablities of super-speed, strength-"

 

"Kitsune."

 

"Awesome. Attacks by inducing the victim into a sleep then plays out the victim's ideal life in his or her head while it drains-"

 

"Djinn."

 

"Great! Attacks with fangs, drinks blo-"

 

I rolled my eyes. "Vampires," I looked up from computer screen, grinning. "the most cliched monster. Human pop culture seems to be... obsessed with them."

 

"You could've just said 'I know what vampires are'," he replied, teasing me. 

 

"I know what vampires are," I repeated, laughing. This time, Sam rolled his eyes, then chuckled back. 

 

"Youre really catching on," he said, changing the subject. 

 

"Thank you," I said, unable to stop smiling. 

 

It was a week after the Sanchez case, with only a few minor cases since then. During the very early morning did I wake up, only to find Sam and Sherlock awake. Sherlock had merely nodded towards us, then made his way to the to the old weaponry room of the bunker, most likely to practice. Sam had then asked me if I would like to learn more about monsters and hunting to which I obliged. After studying with him and learning about these creatures, he began quizzing me as I researched more about the Nephillim. "Killing two birds with one stone," Sam had told me. 

 

"Anything new?" he asked, scrolling through a website to try and find something I wouldn't guess immediately. I shook my head, frowning. All that I had found was the basic mythology and some fictional stories written by oblivious people who didn't hunt. Sighing, I clicked over to a random news article of the news website I had been looking at, the header being, "CHILD ESCAPES NEAR DEATH AFTER SURVIVING CHAOS". 

 

"How'd you get he- whoa," Sam said, glancing at my screen. 

 

"This is terrible," I said softly, reading the article. Instantly, the light hearted mood shared by Sam and I faded to nothing. The article read about a little girl of eight years named Eriss, whose parents had died in a car accident. With her younger brother Thomas, age five, and older brother Devin, age eighteen, they lived at their grandparent's house, who had become their guardians. When their grandfather went out on a business trip, the grandmother, along with a woman Eriss could not identify, locked Eriss, Devin, and Thomas upstairs in their respected rooms. After Eriss made an escape attempt, her grandmother took Thomas who was very close to Eriss and strangled him right in front of her, killing the boy. A devastated Eriss picked up the home phone while her grandmother was distracted and called her grandfather, telling him to come home immediately. To her fortune, he did, only to find Thomas's corpse in the kitchen and Eriss, who explains what happened. Before they can make their escape, however, the grandmother walks out with a gun, this time with her friend missing. The grandfather quickly grabs a baseball bat they keep by a nearby sliding glass door, and hits the gun out of her hands. Instead of fighting back, however, she sprinted away at an unnaturally pace. Without another thought, the grandfather ran off with Eriss to the garage, making an escape... without Devin. 

 

"Yeah,"  Sam replied after going through the story. Suddenly, he stopped scrolling through the page and pointed at the screen. "So get this- one police officer checked out the house, and said, 'Our men cleared the area- Devin and his grandmother were not found nor was the unidentified woman. The only oddities in the ordinary household were Thomas's corpse and the strong smell of sulfer, which we presume to be left behind by the gun'."

 

"Demons," I said, turning away from the screen to Sam. "Which city and state was this attack stationed in? Was there a police station mentioned?"

 

"Costa Mesa, California. The officer who stated this claim was Stuart Rogers, who is chief policeman at the Costa Mesa Police Department. 

 

"What happened in Costa Mesa, California?" John said from across the room, Sherlock, Castiel, and Dean closely behind. When Sam opened his mouth to speak, the Doctor burst put of the TARDIS which was against the wall, his hair sticking up in all sorts of places. 

 

"I hear chatting. Do we have a case?" he asked, grinning. 

 

"It appears so," Sherlock said, striding towards my laptop, placing both hands on the desk as he loomed over me, reading. 

 

"About what, exactly?" John asked, still confused. Dean, Castiel, and John also walked over to read alongside Sherlock. The Doctor walked forward in front of the computers, unable to see the article, face falling as the enthusiasm fled the other men's faces. 

 

"What's wrong?" he asked. In return, John, Dean, and Castiel shook their head, while Sherlock said nothing.

 

"This... uh.... girl. Little girl. She... Jesus, I don't know where to start," Dean said, scratching his neck. He then turned the laptop screen around to face the Doctor, whose face began twisting into a look of horror. 

 

"I'll assume demon, then," the Doctor said softly. 

 

"It seems so," I stated. A moment later, the Doctor nodded, then walked inside the TARDIS.  

 

"Where are we going, Doc?" Sam asked, one eyebrow raised. 

 

"To the TARDIS, as you can see," the Doctor replied, turning around to face Sam and roll his eyes. 

 

"...Doctor, I think he meant where. Possibly when," Castiel clarified. 

 

"Ah! To Costa Mesa, California, of course. We don't have any time to lose!" he exclaimed, running into the TARDIS. 

 

"That is a time machine. We could waste as much time as we want," Sherlock countered. 

 

"Sherlock, how could we possibly hold off on getting to the bottom of this horrible case? There is a little girl out there who not only deserves an immense amount of support, but we have to help her find her brother. Immediately."

 

"I don't think I could sleep without at least starting this case," John said, while Castiel and Sam nodded. 

 

"How could we waste time when we know things like this out there are happening?" I added, voicing my opinion. 

 

"Alright, alright! Let's go!" Sherlock yelled, throwing his arms up in defeat. 

 

"That's the spirit," Dean said, grabbing Castiel by the wrist and nearly dragging him inside. With a small, knowing smile, Sam motioned for me to follow in after them. With a similar smile, I entered, only to be surrounded once more in what could described as the magic of the TARDIS. I couldnt help but take in every little detail again. 

 

"Glad to see you arent sick of the TARDIS yet," the Doctor said, looking at me (who was very obviously in awe) as he slammed down on the levers, manuevering it. 

 

"Who could get sick of this?" Sam interjected. 

 

"Honestly," I said, midst my astonishment. It had been about the seventh time I had been inside the TARDIS, yet it never ceased to amazing me. "By any chance, do you have a book about the TARDIS? A manual, perhaps?" 

 

Suddenly, the Doctor turned around, yet he appeared hesitant to be speak. "I may have-"

 

"He threw it in a supernovae!" Sherlock called from across the room. 

 

"What... why?" I asked, furrowing my brow in confusion. 

 

"He didnt agree with it," John said, his voice coming from somewhere near Sherlock. 

 

"I can answer for myself, thank you!" The Doctor shouted, before repeating, "I threw it in a supernovae because I didnt agree with it."  

 

"So I heard," I replied, nodding my head. 

 

"Not the best idea he's had," Sam added.  

 

"Doctor, you couldve just-" Castiel began. 

 

"Alright, alright! Oh well! I can go to Gallifrey sometime and pick up another!" The Doctor yelled, waving his hands about. 

 

"Whenever we have the time and enough energy to pass through a recently broken time lock," Sam chirped. 

 

"Okay, everyone out. We're here," the Doctor said grumpily, while Dean chuckled at his annoyance. 

 

_~Costa Mesa, California~_

 

We had arrived just around the back of the police station amoung some thick bushes and a few pine trees. At first, it looked like a small forest, until we walked around the corner, which revealed a busy street, a mini mall across the street, and of course, the police station. When we reached the door, Dean knocked. "C'mon, we don't have all day,"  he huffed. 

 

Moments later, a slim man of average height in a police uniform opened the door. "Hi," he started. "what can I do for you guys today?"

 

"Agents Dunham, Nehls, Pratte, Smith, Windermere, Schwab, and Limpit. FBI," Dean replied, as we held up our badges as our so-called names were announced. 

 

"Oh, hello, agents. I'll assume all of you are here for the Eriss case?" the man said. 

 

"Yeah, and you are?" Dean asked, slightly impatient. 

 

"Sorry, Im Officer John Swallis. Come in, I'm sure Officer Rogers is more informed about the case than me."

 

"Thank you," Sam said, then walked in as the rest of us followed. Without struggle, we found the chief policeman's office, and knocked on his door. 

 

"Enter," a gruff voice bellowed. Entering just as the man commanded, we all walked into a small office that hardly fit all of us inside. 

 

"I assume you're all here for Eriss?" he asked, not glancing from his work. 

 

"Yes, we're with the FBI," the Doctor said, then reintroduced us all. 

 

"Ah. Quite a lot of you, I see," Officer Rogers added. 

 

"It's quite a horrible tragedy, and we all want to catch this criminal as soon as possible," I spoke up. 

 

"We all do, but right now, we don't have anything, agents. We checked that house inside and out- five times. Nothing. No traces of anything, besides the corpse of a young, innocent child," Rogers said, leaning back in his chair. 

 

"And sulfer," Sam recalled. 

 

"And sulfer, which is from a gun that they left behind. Thats it. Those, and a traumatized little girl."

 

"Poor kid," John whispered more to himself than anyone else. 

 

"I agree," Castiel said, replying quietly. 

 

"Is there a chance we could speak to Eriss?" Sam asked. 

 

"She is supposed to come down to the station sometime this morning. You're free to wait around for her in the lobby if you wish," the officer said, turning back to his work. 

 

"Thank you," the Doctor said, walking out of the room, the rest of us following closely.  

 

We sat out in the lobby just as planned, though time seemed to move by very slowly. John was playing a game on his smartphone while Sherlock commented on how it was such a waste of time, and The Doctor fiddled once more ith his sonic screwdriver (that had gone off a few times, which attracted the attention of many confused officers). Dean and Castiel whispered to each other, looking very deep in conversation. I looked out at the window at the cars before Sam turned around and began asking me questions. 

 

"Favorite color?" he asked randomly. 

 

"What?" I replied, turning to him and out of my daze. 

 

"Do you have a favorite color?" he repeated, grinning. 

 

I smiled, though my brows were furrowed. "That was unexpected," I said. 

 

"Yeah, Sammy. Thirty two years old and still having trouble flirting?" Dean said, turning away from Castiel to tease his brother. 

 

Sam blushed. "I am not flirting! There's nothing to do, and I'm curious, Dean! I would like to get to know someo-," he reasoned up until my eyes abruptly squeezed shut and my teeth gritted without my purposely doing so. Along with that, the sound of drums and an immense pain began thrumming in my head. As expected, images that werent of my own creation flooded my sight. 

 

**_Two men in uniform, one being Officer Swallis and the other unknown, stood in small room with a little blond girl, no older than eight years old. The two officers' backs were turned towards her as they conversed in hushed tones._ **

**_"Best thing about this room?" the anonymous policeman said. "Its soundproof."_ **

**_Officer Swallis nodded his head enthusiastically until he abruptly deadpanned, an impatient look settling on his face. "I couldnt give half a shit. What I do give a shit about is finishing this damn thing up before Carreau and Jezebeth get on my ass about it even more than they already are. Capisce?" he yelled._ **

**_Behind him, the little girl flinched and gasped, jumping slightly out of her seat._ **

**_The other officer narrowed his eyes. "Capishe."_ **

**_"Good," Swallis said, then turned around to face the young girl, her head bowed down while she fiddled with her thumbs. "Hi, Eriss," he said, smiling. "we're running out of time, it seems. Sorry we waited so long. The good news is, we only have one question you. Sound good?"_ **

**_Eriss looked up and nodded, staying silent._ **

**_"Great! So," the other officer began, stalking closer. "Are you going to come with us the easy way, or the hard way?" he eyes flashed black- completely black.  Any sign on human eyes, whether it be iris or the whites of their eyes, gone. All was replaced by void black._ **

**_Demons._ **

**_Eriss screeched, jumped out of her chair, and ran towards the door. However, 'Officer Swallis' was too quick- he grabbed her arm, leaving red streaks across it, and threw her back in the chair._ **

**_"Take that as the hard way," his associate growled._ **

 

I opened my eyes, adjusting to the light as I saw the gang forming a half circle around me. "Hanna?" the Doctor and Sam asked simultaneously. 

 

"What happened?" Sam continued. 

 

"Are you al-" Castiel began, but before he could finish, I pushed him to the side and frantically ran up the stairs where I could only hope the room which Eriss was in would be. I could hear the men following closely yet somewhat cautiously behind me as I kflung open the doors in a fit of panic, the horrible headache that I now had not helping. Every door I came across did I fling open, only to find them empty. 

 

"What's going on?" I heard John ask someone faintly from behind me. 

 

"Premonition," Sherlock replied. 

 

Before I could turn the doorknob to the next door I was prepared to open, we heard a loud thump come from farther down the hall. I ran as fast as possible to the room I thought I heard the noise come from, only for it to be locked. 

 

"It's locked! Shes in here, shes in dang-" I started, but before I could continue, the Doctor whipped out his sonic and unlocked it the door with it. Sure enough after we burst in (though most of the team was still confused to why exactly we were doing so), there stood a struggling Eriss, tears streaking her face as she tried to squirm out of Officer Swallis' and, according to the badge, Officer Johnston's grip. Looking at the so-called "officer's" eyes, they were as they were in the premonition- void black, no trace of white or color in them. As soon as they turned around to face us completely and we had all seen their true identities, their eyes became normal. 

 

With hardly any hesitation, Dean shouted, "Cas, Doctor, now!" In an instant, Castiel had slammed the door shut and turned off all the lights in the room, leaving it as black as the demons' eyes. 

 

"Aha!" the Doctor cried out in the darkness, the unmistakable sound of his sonic screwdriver chasing after his voice. On the floor underneath the two demons and Eriss where the Doctor was pointing his screwdriver at did a blueish-green, glowing demon trap appear.

 

"Clever," I whispered, midst my shock. 

 

"Fuck," one of the demons cursed, anonymous in the darkness. 

 

"Hand her over, boys," Dean said, walking closer to the trap. 

 

"Or what?" retorted one of them. The older Winchester laughed despite his annoyance, then shook his head. 

 

"Let me rephrase this. Hand over the girl, or-" he pulled out the infamous demon blade, the knife coming out of its sheath with a _shink._

 

"Wait, Dean," I intervened. "where are Jezebeth and Carreau?" 

 

"Jezewhat and who?" Dean asked, frustrated that he had been interrupted from his line of questioning. 

 

"Demons I heard of that are associated with in my-"

 

"Oh my God, is that Hamaliel Im hearing?" Officer Swallis said, a grin in his voice. 

 

"Oh my- it is!" His friend laughed. 

 

"That's enough of that," Castiel answered, taking the blade from Dean and started towards them.   

 

"Okay, okay! We'll tell you where they are!" Officer Swallis said, panic in his voice. 

 

"Go ahead," Castiel said calmly, though his fist was clearly clenching the blade in the dim glow of the demon trap. 

 

"Okay, they're,"  Swallis repeated, exhaling. "up your ass and to the left," he finished, then broke out into hysterics along with his friend. They're laughter was, however, shoet lived; Dean snatched the blade back from Castiel then plunged it into Swallis's heart. With a yellow flicker, he was on the floor, stone dead. 

 

"You got anymore smartass remarks, or are you done wasting our time?" Dean asked, pointing the tip of the weapon against Johnston's throat. 

 

The demon inside Johnston's body gulped, hardly visible but still there. "No more smartass remarks," he said. 

 

Dean smirked. "Good. Now, do I have to repeat the ques-"

 

"They're in the abandoned church nearby in Huntington Beach. Wintersburg Japanese Presbetrian Chruch," he exhaled, closing his eyes in shame. 

 

"Demons? In a church?" Sam asked increduously. 

 

"Abandoned church. All boarded up except for a few select areas," the demon replied. 

 

"You sure about that?" Dean continued, keeping the blade on the monster's neck. 

 

"Yes!" 

 

Dean looked at Sherlock, most likely to confirm with him about whether the demon was telling the truth or not. The detective nodded. 

 

"Alright. Thanks for your time," the elder hunter said before plunging the blade into the demon. With another yellow flicker, the body fell back, joining the other on the floor. I could only hope that Eriss wasnt looking at what would be at the very least for her, traumatizing. Seconds later did Castiel turn back on the lights. 

 

"Wasnt there a better way to handle that?" the Doctor said meekly. 

 

"No," Sam deadpanned. 

 

"How did they know Hanna?" John spoke up. Before I could reply, I became drenched in holy water, thanks to Dean. 

 

"Really, Dean?" Castiel said as I scowled at the clothes sticking to my body, then at Dean. "I told you she was an angel before the fall. One of my many sisters."

 

"Then how did those dickbags know her?" he countered. 

 

"I will explain later. Now is not the time," my brother finished. To avoid any further discussion, I walked over to Eriss, my steps squishing with water as I walked. Smiling (despite the entire situation), I kneeled down, falling eye-level to her. 

 

"Hello," I began, smiling. Her eyes fell downcast again as she mumbled something inaudible. "What did you say?"

 

"Please don't hurt me," she said, hoarse from crying, looking at me. She pressed herself against the back of the chair as if she were trying to becme one with it. My face fell. This poor little girl was shaking, and her face was wet with tears. Her blonde hair was messy from fighting the demons, and her arms were red. Her blue dress was even torn towards the bottom. Insinctively, I rose my hand to heal her, only for her to gasp and flinch back. I took my hand back, realizing that I was no longer an angel, again. I couldnt heal her, not her painful memories, nor her bruises and scratches. Instead, I wiped her tears away with my thumb, hoping it would comfort her in the slightest. 

 

"I promise I will never hurt you. None of the people here will hurt you. We're here to help," I said. I felt pity for Eriss, and I desperately wanted to help her as much as possible. I didnt know whether this was the beginning of hunter instincts growing inside me, or the fact that I was becoming more and more human- more protective, more conscious. 

 

Remembering something I had once witnessed from Heaven, I held out my little finger. Two children I had seen had held out their pinky fingers, then wrapped them around the other kid's finger when they promised each other something. Thankfully, Eriss knew what I was trying to do, and smiled. It was small, but still there. We 'Pinky Promised' , as it was called. "I promise we will never hurt you," I repeated. "we're going to help you find your brother."

 

From behind me, someone cleared their throat. Turning around, I saw Sam towering over me, with the Doctor and Dean at his side. As I got up, he said, "Youre great with kids." I smiled in gratitude, and thanked him. 

 

"Yeah, sure she is, but whatre we going to do with Eriss?" Dean whispered, eyes wide. 

 

"Ooh! I though about this one," the Doctor began as we strode over to the rest of the men. "We could bring her in the TARDIS with us until the emd of the case!"

 

"Okay, good I guess, as long as she stays in the TARDIS, but what about after the case? We cant keep a kid on our hands."

 

"Not with this lifestyle," Sam agreed, shaking his head. 

 

"It depends on the outcomes," Sherlock stated, walking in on our conversation. "whether the brother lives, we find an orphanage, ecetera."

 

"We'll just have to wait until the end of the case," John said. 

 

"Precisely," Sherlock replied. 

 

"Now, however, it seems we have some demons to find," Castiel finished, starting towards the door. 

 

"What about the bodies?" I asked, staring at the two officers on the ground. 

 

"Oh," said the Doctor, then began toying with his screwdriver. "Aha!" he pointed up, then shoved it back in his pocket. "Perception filter; it will drag all attention away from us, like... seeing something in the corner of your eye move while you're busy. Stay close together, and someone grab Eriss. Sam and Dean, will you-"

 

"Yeah," the brothers said simeltanelously. 

 

"Alright," the Time Lord stated, then muttered, "I cant believe Im doing this..." Everyone filtered out the room, Sam and Dean each holding one body over their shoulder, while I went out last with Eriss to keep her away from the dead men, the little girl grasping my hand as we did so. 

 

~.~

 

With hard work, effort, and obvious discomfort did we make it back inside the TARDIS. It was a wonder that we werent caught- several times did Dean bump Officer Johnston against a wall, and Sam had to constantly regain his grip on Officer Swallis. At current, we had just finished salting and burning the bodies of the deceased officers whilst Eriss stayed inside the TARDIS. Upon our entrance back into the time machine did we notice the little girl walking around the console, staring at the room in awe. When she heard John, the last one inside, shut the door,  she jumped. 

 

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry. We're the good guys!" said The Doctor when he noticed her fear. Upon hearing the Doctor's voice and seeing the rest of us, she relaxed. Still, she sat on the floor off to the side, careful not to be in the way of the Doctor's running about. She continued looking about until she caught the Doctor's eye, the Time Lord smiling at her from the opposite side of the console. "Pretty cool, huh?" he asked, smile unwavering as he pulled down a lever. She nodded hesitantly at first, then more eagerly. The Time Lord continued to grin as he worked away at the console. In no time at all, we were at the church (whether we were onside or outside, there was no way to tell), ready with weapons and medical supplies in case Devin was hurt... if he was even here. 

 

"You should stay back with Eriss," Dean said. 

 

"I-"

 

"No need for that! She is currently playing in the toy room," exclaimed the Doctor as he swaggered down the hall and into the console room. 

 

"Shouldn't someone supervise her anyways?" Castiel argued. 

 

"Well, the TARDIS is-"

 

"-completely safe," Sherlock finished for the Doctor. 

 

"But still," said Sam. 

 

"I can watch over her, if you would-" Before I could finish the rest of my sentence, a scream erupted from beyond the TARDIS doors. All conversation was immediately dropped as Sam, Dean, Sherlock, and John cocked their guns, and Castiel and I whipped out our blades. Per usual, the Doctor took out sonic screwdriver and trailed behind the rest of us.

 

The sight that greeted us could be described no other than disastrous. Even in the dim light of the church, blood on the broken, splintered floor was very visible. Pews upon pews had been ripped up and torn away from the ground to the point where some were completely upside down. At the alter did light pouring down from a hole in the ceiling shine upon a young man, whose black shirt and dark wash jeans were sliced open to reveal bloody gashes on his skin. He was tied to the alter, and visible were the opes biting into his shirt and revealed skin. His neck was twisted at an awkward angle as he sat unconscious, arms at his sides and legs splayed. 

 

"Oh my God," John said from off to the side. On the floor laid an old woman, also bloody and unconscious. 

 

"John, check if that woman is alive," Sam said as he ran over to Devin. 

 

"Oh, trust me. She isnt," another woman spoke. We turned around to see an outline of her sitting on a normal pew- the only one untouched by havoc. In her clutched hand was a knife, dripping with blood.  "Such a kind woman. A fighter too, to her misfortune. Her not cooperating with us ultimately led to her downfall."

 

"Jezebeth," I breathed. Not only could I recognize her name from the vision, I recognized her... her voice, her vessel... her.

 

I wished I could forget it. Everything about-

 

"Ah, not only have we have Winchesters and Company, we have Hamaliel, don't we now!" Jezebeth exclaimed, tossing me out of the haze of my thoughts. "So good to see you! Been awhile, hasnt it?"

 

I felt every muscle, every tendon, every single fiber of my being seize up and tense. Clenching my jaw, I reach my angel blade and started for the demon. 

 

"Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn't if I were you!" She lifted her hand, palm facing Devin and twisted her wrist. From behind us, we heard Devin groan in agony. We looked over at him to see blood dribbling out of his mouth and nose. Glaring at the demon, I stepped back to stand with the group once more. Jezebeth cackled, then lowered her hand. "Just like the Hamaliel I used to know. So... willing. Weak."

 

"Where's the other demon? Carreau, was it?" Sam asked, jaw set. 

 

The demon smirked as she turned to Sherlock. "Well, it looks like your detective's got it all figured out." We immediately turned our attention to Sherlock, who seemed very occupied with glaring daggers at Devin.  

 

"Eriss reported two women attacking her," the detective began, his eyes trailing towards the woman on the ground. "There are two women here. Jezebeth inside one female vessel, and... the grandmother. When the grandmother became too uncomfortable, too weak for what's his name... Carreau, he left then entered a more convenient body. Devin."

 

A low chuckle was heard from the alter. Sure enough, Devin's head was tossed back as he began laughing hysterically after catching sight of our group. "God, it took you long enough!" he shouted in between his constant, flowing stream of giggles. Carreau turned to Jezebeth and said, "I didnt know how much longer I was going to be able to keep that up." With a single snap of his fingers, the ropes went slack and slid off his body. In a snakelike fashion, Carreau stood up and stretches, groaning in relief of finally being able to move. "This boy is so flexible... young... taut, rather than... saggy," he continued, walking down the steps leading up to the alter, down to our level. I could feel sweat beading on my hairline as he came closer. For reassurance, I slipped my hand in my back into my back pocket, ready to slide it out if necessary. Not only my body, but my very last bits of my grace screamed _kill them, kill them,_ but with Sam's hand on my shoulder, it was easy to assume that I shouldn't. 

 

"Don't kill either of them," the Doctor whispered to no one in paticular, though I felt as if he were reading my mind. "kill them with a weapon and the humans inside will die along with them."

 

"But-" Dean began. 

 

"Exorcism, Dean," Sam said under his breath.

 

"Right."

 

Sam turned to Jezebeth, looking at her dead in the eyes. With one last inhale, he recited, "Exorcisama Te, Omnis Imundus Spiritus-"

 

"Oh, no you don't!" Jezebeth yelled, then rose her hands. With a single flick of the wrist, the younger Winchester flew back into the nearest wall, a cloud of dust exploding out from underneath him. 

 

"Omnis Satanica Potestas-" John picked up from where Sam left off until he too was flung against the wall, landing with an audible _unf_. As Jezebeth used both her hands to steady the two men against the wall, Carreau lept off the ground and into action to attack Castiel while the angel continued to perform the exorcism. Taking advantage of the demons' full hands, I came up from behind Jezebeth, grabbed her wrists, and twisted them down, freeing Sam and John. With ease and newfound empty hands, she tossed me off into the corner of the sanctuary. She snarled at me as she ran over, her precious blade in her hand poised to attack. I scrambled off the floor, attempting yet failing to regain footwork as she pushed me back down to the floor with a single foot. Quickly, she straddled my waist and hurled her blade down at my chest. 

 

At the last possible moment, Sam rushed over, raw fury in his eyes as he pummeled into her, successfully knocking her off of me. Spinning around, I saw John peel himself up off the wall and Sherlock and Dean fighting Carreau to keep him away from Castiel. The Winchester had locked the demon's arms behind him as the detective effortlessly twisted its wrists around. Even with the creature's piercing screech and the violence coming from the two men, Castiel continued his chanting without mistakes. 

 

"Don't kill me, Dean, Sherlock. You don't want little Eriss to lose all of her family because of you, do you?" Carreau said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Maybe you, Dean Winchester, would've enjoyed it a year ago. You know, 'cause you were a demon and all? But no, not now. You're supposed to be recovering, aren't you? Or are you cold hearted by nature, giving half a shit about what you do and its consequences."

 

 Dean growled, demon blade raised to kill until Sherlock looked over at me and said, "Hamaliel, hold back Dean before he does something he will regret."

 

In an instant I had my hands on Dean's shoulders, pulling him backwards. How I had the strength to do so does not cease to amaze me. Looking back towards Jezebeth as I held Dean, I witnessed Sam pinning down the thing while John swung his fist, effectively breaking her nose with a crunch. She spat into his face, only succeeding in angering him further. Meanwhile, Carreau had managed to pull away from Sherlock. I hadn't noticed until a sharp pain shot up from my lower back to the to of my spine. As I unintentionally let loose of my grip on Dean, I fell backwards. The demon, like Jezebeth previously, pinned me down back on the floor. Before I could roll over and throw the lightweight off, he leant close to my ear and whispered, "Hope to see you back in Hell soon. We all know youre trying to help restore back in Heaven, but Lucifer and the rest of the gang miss you dearly." He smiled, mischief as clear as day in his eyes until the exorcism finished shortly thereafter. He lurched forward and opened his mouth wide, where pitch-black smoke erupted from not only his mouth but Jezebeth's included. Up the smoke flew, out the hole above the alter and into the night. 

 

We all survived, unharmed yet exhausted in our ways. I for one was happy to be able to lie down without having someone atop of me. Sherlock and the Doctor had slumped as they sat on the hard floor, while Castiel leaned against the wall. Sam, Dean, and John stood, catching their breaths. 

 

"Dean, you cant let them antagonize you so seriously like that," Castiel said, voice soft. 

 

"Workin' on it, Cas," Dean mumbled. 

 

Before their conversation could continue, the former vessels of Jezebeth and Carreau awoke. The woman, formerly Jezebeth, tried to rise to her feet, only to collapse back onto the floor. She continued to sit on the ground, lips parted to form a small "o". With wide eyes, she glanced at us, then at the blood on the floor, and finally, at the dead grandmother. 

 

"Oh my God," she said, voice breaking off with her last word while rivulets of tears streamed down her face.

 

"Hey, hey, hey, its alright, you're safe now," the Doctor said, rushing over to her. 

 

The Time Lord only managed to make the woman even more panicked, eyes widening as she pushed herself farther back into the corner. "Don't c-come any closer," she said. 

 

"Why? We won't hurt you. We're here to help," he proclaimed, taking a few steps forward. 

 

"Maybe not, but I mi-might hurt you," she replied. The Doctor continued to walk over to her, holding his arms out as he smiled softly. 

 

"No, you wont. Its all over. You're free, remember?" She did not protest any further. While the Doctor comforted the woman, a creaking coming from the alter interrupted the peaceful silence. Devin was attempting to stand up, steadying himself against the alter to balance himself. His right leg was obviously hurt; he was limping, keeping his leg off the ground. He noticed me after reaching an upright position and asked, "Where's Eriss?"

 

"In our care," I answered. "Would you like to see her?"

 

"Please."

 

"Let me help you out there, bud," Sam said, walking over. 

 

John looked towards the scene unfolding. Obviously unaware to the situation, he asked, "Are you hurt, Devin?" 

 

"Just my ankle," he grunted, hesitantly accepting Sam's shoulder to balance himself on. 

 

"She's in the room down the left hall. Take another left, and she's the third door on the right," the Doctor said from his corner in which he sat with the woman. 

 

Taking the lead, I began walking past the threshold, Sam, John, and Devin behind me until I heard a lack of footsteps following me. Turning around,  I saw Devin staring in awe at the TARDIS. He twisted his head back as far as he could to look outside. 

 

"It's-"

 

"Bigger on the inside. We know," John replied. 

 

"How-"

 

"Magic," Sam deadpanned as we continued walking down to the hall. In little time, we made it to the door, where beyond Eriss lie. With his free hand, John swung open the door. Inside, just as predicted, Eriss say on the floor near a dollhouse, if you could call it that; it was unlike any dollhouse I had seen. It must had been one from Gallifrey. Nevertheless, she had been playing with the dolls that accompanied the house until she whipped around, curious to who had entered. She immediately dropped her toys. 

 

"Eriss," Devin breathed, a relieved smile growing on his face. The little girl got to her feet, and ran towards her brother, hugging his legs. Devin winced at the contact, though his grin never wavered. 

 

"I missed you," she mumbled into his leg. 

 

"I missed you too," he replied, bending down to pick her up. He kissed the top of her head then again on her cheek. "I missed you too," he repeated, hugging her closer. 


	9. A Turn of Events

_Date_ _: June 14, 2016_

_Entry_ _: 290_

 

_Hello again, and apologies for not writing in so long again. Many things have changed since my last entry. Many, many things._

 

_For one, I no longer live in the abandoned home I claimed as my own. In fact, I live with the very people discussed previously in my last entry: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, The Doctor, Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson in both the bunker and the TARDIS. It's a miracle, really. I had not realized how... lonely I felt without company. In the days I spent recording back in my own, isolated heaven, I would at least get visitors on occasion. The past two years, the only visitors I got were pesky mosquitoes._

 

_Until now._

 

_Ive been taken in under their wing, so to speak, by all of them. Well, almost all of them. It seems Dean is still... accustoming to me, according to Castiel. On contrary, Sam Winchester has been the kindest. Ill go into detail someday when I have more time, but I really enjoy his specific company more than the others. Its not that the other men aren't wonderful company, dare I say friends. It's just... different with Sam. Im not sure. It's very complicated, and Im ashamed to say that I dont know exactly what it means._

 

_Anyways, it seems that they need me for an important reason, the important reason being what got me here in the first place- reversing the fall and stopping Metatron. It seems that this certain brother of mine seemed to have caused these issues. In fact, the Winchesters and Castiel had nearly stopped him, but not without complications which eventually led to his escape. Complications which are up  for discussion on another day. In short, even though we haven't found too much information on the topic, Im here to helpmand enjoying every bit of it. We have gone on unrelated cases- seven, to be exact. All of them are very long, mostly depressing stories._

 

_Our last case, approximately a week ago, involved three children, a grandmother, and a woman who we had found out had been possessed since the late 1980's. One of two brothers had unfortunately perished to a demon, as did their grandmother. The other brother and sister barely survived. In fact, the remaining brother had been possessed, along with the woman named Jane. After resolving the ordeal, the older brother, Devin, took in his sister, Eriss. Together they now live in an apartment, and Devin is on his way to become her legal guardian. Jane, pwith help from the Doctor, was rightfully turned back to her time era after confirming that there would be no paradoxes involved._

 

_Anyways, referring back to the the fall issue, our plan so far is to cleanse my grace, as I have mentioned. Our theory is finding Nephilim, creatures of half human, half angel descent, who know how to separate their humanity from their grace, keeping it pure. Our hopes are that they know how to do so with a vial of my own tainted grace. The issue is that there seems to be no alive Nephilim currently, as Castiel killed the last one. Also a different story for a different time._

 

_On another note, it would be impossible to write all that I have learned in the past month. Its two different things, observing and experiencing. For instance, take something as alien as the TARDIS. I think I have explained it before- it's an acronym for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It's a time machine that not only travels through past, present, and future, but anywhere in the univ-_

 

I immediately dropped my quill and sat up on my bed in the bunker. Before anything else, I proceeded to smack myself in the forehead. How could I have been so oblivious, especially for a former Angel of Logic? How? Through extensive researching with Sam, Nephilim were most common through England during the Victorian Era. Yes, it's a fact that we have no clue to if there are Nephilim in this era, but we have a _time machine._ Why would it matter if there were Nephillim in this time or not? Jumping off my bed, I slammed down my journal onto the bed and ran to the door. Quickly twisting the doorknob, I began to sprint once more- into Sam. Together, we fell on the floor, me landing directly on top of the poor man. 

 

"Oh, Sam! I am so, so sor-" Before I could finish, he began laughing hysterically. 

 

"I-its okay, I was...  just going t-to... check on... you," he gasped between laughs. "You've been in here all morning, and as soon as I come to get you, you decide to get up!"

 

I felt my face heating up; surely I was blushing. "I swear it was completely unintentional-" Sam brought his finger to my lips, grin still plastered to his face. 

 

"Its completely fine. I forgive you." He careful rolled out from under me, stood up, and held his hand out for me. Without a second thought, I took it as he hoisted me up. For a brief period we stood there, holding hands as unwavering smiles stayed on our faces. Suddenly, Sam looked down, a slight blush on his face. "Sorry."

 

"Why?" I asked, too... unfocused to guess why he was apologizing. 

 

Sam looked back up and slowly dropped my hand as he shook his head slightly. A small grin still graced his features. "Never mind... I just meant to ask, what's got you in such a hurry?"

 

With that sentence I snapped back into reality, so to speak. "Oh, yes! I have kept a journal with me for roughly two years now, and havent written in it since the day you found me."

 

"What timing," Sam remarked thoughtfully. 

 

I nodded, smile not leaving my face as I continued. "Anyways, I was writing about the past month, for example, how I got here, why Im here, and random drabbles about various things such as you men and the TARDIS. Once I had gotten to explaining the TARDIS for the second time -before, I could only identify it through my premonitions- something... clicked in my head. Sam, we've been looking in the wrong places when it comes to our answer for Metatron, the fall, the Nephilim, everything! It doesn't matter that we cannot find any Nephilim at this time. We have a time machine!"

 

When I finished, the Winchester's eyes widened. Just as I had done, he smacked himself in the forehead. "Are you kidding me? How could any of us... how could we overlook that? You're brilliant!"

 

"Thank you," I said, ducking my head down. 

 

"Come on," he said excitedly, fainting reminding me of small child with his funny smile and comical eyes. Grabbing my wrist, he said, "we _have_ to go tell the other guys!" Together, we ran down the hall as Sam shouted, "Guys, so get this!"

 


End file.
